Stitches, Burns and Blood
by Neurotic Temptress
Summary: AU. Logan, Rogue, Ororo and Remy... Four lives entwined in a world where blood, sweat and tears are a commonplace thing.
1. Smoke and Liquor

**Disclaimer: **... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Oh, if you hear silence, that's because I shoved a gag into the disclaimer's mouth. I can only take so much of its jabbering, you know...

**A/N: **Hi, guys! Boy, aren't you all lucky? This being the first chapter and all, you don't have to put up with all the usual long, _long_ Author's Notes. Savor it while it lasts. ; )

For this fic, I decided to experiment a little. (Experiments in the hands of the insane? That can't be a good thing, can it?) See, most of the other stories under my thumb have been extremely plot-driven. Right from the get-go, I more or less knew what was going to happen and how the fic was going to end. This sometimes took away the excitement of writing for me because I knew what the outcome was going to be once the last chapter rolled around. So I thought I'd do like _The Madness Series_ and kind of "type by the seat of my pants." (Which might not exactly be an easy task 'cause, let's face it, how do I type with _that_ particular body part?) I have some vague ideas about certain scenes and situations that I want to happen, but nothing concrete to actually string them all together, no solid end in sight. So if anyone wants to randomly throw in a suggestion here or there, we can see if it meshes with the stuff that I had in mind. Anything I use will of course be accredited to whomever suggested the idea. : )

So that having been said, let's see where this takes us... (Hopefully, it's not into the center of the Earth or deep into space where we have no possible hope of finding our way back... ; )

**CHAPTER 1  
Smoke and Liquor**

She entered the poorly lit room. The first thing she took note of was the overpowering smell of alcohol and sweat. Not the most pleasant combination in the world, but one that she was accustomed to. There were more people present than usual, making her trek across the floor slow but not impossible. In places like these, the phrases "Excuse me" or "I beg your pardon" held little to no significance whatsoever, so she used neither when accidentally jostling a number of shoulders along her way. The constant cloud of lingering tobacco smoke felt heavy in the air, clinging to her skin like a tight layer of clothing. It was almost smothering, suffocating, pressing down on her lungs and causing her to breathe just a little bit harder. The room was hot, uncomfortable... and welcomingly familiar.

She could feel several wanting glances being cast in her direction. With an air of confidence and nonchalance, she pointedly ignored them. She had to admit the attention was flattering as hell -- what girl, after all, didn't love to be admired? -- but she would have preferred to be hit upon by someone who wasn't reeking of smoke and liquor.

Pushing a lock of pure white hair behind her ear, she slid herself onto one of the stools at the bar. From her vantage point she had a pretty good view of the room. Most of the other patrons were wandering about, excitedly awaiting the top of the hour. A jukebox in the far corner was turned on, playing a strange mix of jazz, rock and metal that she couldn't quite identify. The music just barely pushed itself through the overwhelming din that would have otherwise drowned it out.

As she completed her sweep of the area, her eyes came to rest on a brown-haired man sitting on the opposite side of the bar. A second look confirmed that the word 'man' was being kind. He looked more like a kid, fifteen at the most. How he managed to get past the bouncer, she could only guess. His hand was wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle, nursing the contents with steady attention. He seemed all but oblivious to the noise and movement around him. She wondered about the melancholy expression on his face and the reasons for his being in a bar at this time of night.

As if feeling her eyes on him, the teen looked up, surprised that someone was watching him, but ultimately pleased that it was such an attractive woman who was doing the watching. He squared his shoulders and sent her a tentative grin.

She almost wanted to smile at his attempt. There was something boyishly charming about the way he was trying to 'pick her up,' puffing out his chest to make himself look bigger, broader -- and yet contradicting that action with a less-than-confident smile. It was pathetic and yet incredibly cute at the same time. In response, she gave him a flirtatious look, one that was tinged with shy seduction and interest. If she didn't know any better she could have sworn that he'd blushed.

Obviously gaining more confidence from her actions, she watched as he called the bartender over. As he spoke, the older man glanced in her direction and then nodded. She followed his movements as he expertly prepared a drink and then came over to set it down in front of her.

"Only five minutes in and you're already getting fellas to buy you drinks. You're really good for business, you know that?" he said, placing his palms on the countertop and leaning slightly towards her.

"Nice ta see you too, Sal." She smiled up at him. "Miss me?"

"You know it."

Discreetly nodding toward the boy on the other side of the bar, she commented, "Kind o' young ta be in here, ain't he?"

Sal scoffed. "Not like you care all that much about how young these kids are, sweetheart." He looked over his shoulder at the object of their discussion. "He's with Miles. A cousin or something. Trying to cheer him up a little 'cause his girlfriend broke up with him."

"By bringin' him here? Boy's likely ta become even _more_ depressed," she quipped.

He chuckled at her joke, turning back to face her.

Continuing, she inquired, "Why're you servin' him? Ain't he illegal still?"

"Technically yeah, but I doubt you're gonna run off and tell the cops, now are you?" He chucked her under the chin. "Anyways, he's family -- well, Miles' family at least. 'Sides I'm cutting him off after that one beer."

She nodded, looking past Sal's shoulder to her young benefactor. He was staring at them in open curiosity, probably wondering why Sal was still there, chatting her up. "Well, Ah guess Ah should get ovah there an' at least say thank you."

"Hey you, no funny business."

She shot him a look of pure innocence. "Why, whatevah do you mean, suh?" she asked, deepening her accent and reminding him of a proper southern lady, which she was not.

He shook his head, amused. "You know what I mean. I don't want to have to pick that kid off the floor 'cause you went and broke his heart."

"Ah promise," she declared, sliding off the barstool, "if there will be any breakin' o' hearts here t'night, it won't be by mah hand." She grinned and picked up her drink.

"Yeah, I'll just bet."

"How much?" she challenged almost automatically, though they both knew she wasn't serious. Changing the topic, she questioned, "He here?"

Sal nodded, tilting his head to the right. "Usual place," he answered shortly. "How long you here for?"

"'Til y'all decide ta kick me out." Smiling evilly, she turned to leave. "Be seein' you, Sal."

"Yeah," she heard him reply.

Moving back into the outskirts of the crowd, she made her way around the bar, until she stood beside the young man.

"Hey, sugah," she greeted. Indicating the empty seat next to him, she asked, "Mind if a lady gets off her feet fo' a while?"

"N-no, not at all. Please." He was almost blushing again, she could tell. It was so adorable how easily he became flustered.

She offered her hand. "Mah name's Rogue."

"Brian. Brian Travis," he answered.

"Well, Brian, thank you fo' th' drink." She raised the martini she'd set down on the bar before pulling out the olive and placing it in her mouth.

He merely nodded. Her movements had caught his eye and he was following them with interest. He wasn't really sure if she was doing it on purpose or not, but he thought the way the olive slipped into her mouth was incredibly sexy.

"Uhh... do you come here often?" he asked, uncertain of how to continue the conversation.

She laughed lightly. "Why, sugah, are you tryin' ta pick me up?"

"Could be." He was making an attempt at playing it cool.

"Yoah a li'l young fo' me." She smiled to lessen the sting of her words, then took a sip of her martini.

He took in her appearance. "You couldn't be more than a handful of years older."

"That's still older, sugah." Sliding off her seat, she placed her hands on his knees and stood between his legs, leaning in close to his ear so that she could whisper, "But if it weren't fo' that, Ah'd prob'ly be interested... _very_ interested." She took hold of his chin and planted a kiss at the very corner of his mouth. "Thanks again fo' th' drink, Brian."

She stepped down and away from him, without another look. She was happy that she could take his mind off his breakup for at least five minutes, boosting his teenaged ego at the same time. After all, how many boys his age could boast that a hot, older woman had flirted so openly with them?

Traveling through the main floor proved more difficult than it had been fifteen minutes earlier. While she'd been preoccupied, the number of people increased, all waiting with anticipation for the big event. The slight struggle didn't faze her. She was used to maneuvering around people who didn't seem inclined to move of their own accord. It didn't take long for her to reach her intended destination.

It was the best table in the house, by far the largest and most comfortable, as well as having the best view of the floor with which to see all the action. Seated around it were five men, all smoking and drinking to their hearts' content, while deep into a game of poker.

"Hey, y'all," she purred smoothly, sauntering over with a hand on her hip. "Anyone care ta cut me in?"

One of the men, clearly the leader of the group, lifted his gaze to where she stood. Rising to his feet, he approached her.

"'Bout time you got here, darlin'," he said, pulling her into his arms and greeting her with a kiss.

----

You're possibly wondering, "Why the heck stop there?" Believe me when I tell you, "I have no friggin' idea!" The bunnies are in control and I've got no say. You should see them, all snug in the cockpit, even wearing those huge pilot goggles like they know what they're doing... Hey, wait a minute... where are all the parachutes on this flight...?


	2. Lipstick and Cards

**Disclaimer: **I pushed the disclaimer off a very steep cliff. It's now hanging on by a fingernail. Damn thing doesn't even know how to die gracefully...

~ Rehsh, Rat, T., Sophia, bigtreydawg, LiLRoguE, Carla -- Would any of you be interested in the Microsoft coup we have planned in the coming months? ; )

~ Ning Ning -- Wow... *blushes* That's so nice... *pushes heaps of chocolate, candy and other sweets in Ning's direction* What can I say, I'm easy! Say those last three words and I'd give you my kidney if you asked for it! ; )

~ Disturbed Courtney -- *checks three dictionaries, one thesaurus, and an electronic Word Web spell-checker* Yeah... I _think_ that's how you spell 'intrigued'... but I wanna check a few more sources before I confirm... ; )

~ Fleurdelys -- I hope I'm not too late! I came as soon as I could with -- Hey! Wait a minute... Where did you get that plate of food? What happened to '[your] fridge is not within arm's reach'?! : ) ... Okay, see it's like this: the plot bunnies _always_ know what's happening in the story. _I_ only know what's going on if they chose to let me in on their devious little plans. If they chose to keep me in the dark, like they're doing now, then we're plum out of luck... Ooh, and excellent point! Just because an older woman flirted with Brian doesn't necessarily mean his friends will believe him! I guess it's back to the depression for him...

~ ishandahalf -- 1) Yes, I _love_ to screw up your thought processes! It's what I live for! 'Sides, I shouldn't be all screwed up by myself! That's just sad! 2) Still haven't taken care of that cough, huh? 3) Don't put yourself down! You have a point sometimes! Like that time you... uhh... hmm... Wait, wait, just give me a minute... 4) Wait a second, WHY THE HECK ARE YOU ALL-CAPSING ME? It's freaky me out, I gotta say... ; ) 5) Damn! Thanks for the warning about the parachutes! Those sneaky little bunnies, trying to kill me via an anvil on my back! How incredibly rude!

~ no name kid -- Hey, as long as I'm not the only screwball around here... ; )

~ Christy S, *, crazytook -- *gazes into crystal ball* I see... I see... I see nothing 'cause this crystal ball is actually a fish tank that hasn't been cleaned in a while! But hey, never say I didn't try!

~ Mag Carter -- Use their ears as parachutes? Does that mean I'd have to save them along with myself? Or do you want me to... *gulp*... yank their ears off with my bare hands?

~ Panther Nesmith -- See _that_ was my reaction, too! Bunnies flying airplanes just ain't a natural thing. Point number one: how do they even see over the controls? Do they use a booster seat or do they just sit on top of each other until they reach the appropriate height? It boggles the mind...

~ Rogue15 -- So either you _really_ like them slashes or your space bar is broken... : ) But don't you just hate it when things aren't working like they should? (Stop me now before I go on an excessively long tirade about what's wrong with the world! : )

~ SLH -- Umm... Yes. Don't know. Maybe. Could happen. Thank you! Hope you are. I'll definitely try not to! And yes, you still have to! : ) ... Did any of that make any sense to you? ; )

~ Rupeshwari -- *whispers* Even if the bunnies aren't to blame, I _still_ point the finger at them! Surprisingly, nobody ever believes me...

~ Goddess Evie -- Haha! I just might take you up on that parachute-sharing offer. The bunnies don't hate you too, do they?

~ Eileen Blazer -- *grin* Yup, as hard as it is to believe, I usually plan my chapters... usually. Obviously not now 'cause the damn bunnies still aren't talking... Ooh, I've bred confusion! How sinfully evil! My work here is done... ; )

~ Marie -- I've been thinking... We have _way_ too many species from the animal kingdom running around here. What are we, a zoo? Bunnies and monkeys and platypi... what's next?

**CHAPTER 2  
Lipstick and Cards**

Immediately, the table erupted into a collective "aww..." that could clearly be heard above the rest of the room's noise.

One of the men still seated tilted his head to the side and wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. "It's... it's just so touching..."

"Yeah," sniffed the raven-haired man to his left. "Like one of those chick flicks where the guy and the girl get back together after so long." He put a dainty hand to his mouth and looked away. "I need a handkerchief..." When one was handed to him, he loudly blew his nose into it, exaggerating the action to an obnoxious degree.

"You yahoos finished yet?" the man standing next to Rogue demanded. He'd broken the embrace at the first sound from the table behind him, but his right arm remained loosely on her waist.

"Wait, wait, just one more time..." The sandy blonde motioned to his companions and together they let out another cooing "aww..."

Rogue rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "You still hang out with these losers, Logan?"

"Unfortunately, yeah."

The raven-haired man spoke up. "Hey, Scott, did you know we were losers?"

"No, Frank, can't say that I did. How 'bout you, Jimmy?"

"Nope. Bobby?"

"Hey, all I wanna know is how come we didn't get a kiss like Logan got a kiss?"

"'Cause you ain't her brother, bub." Logan walked back to his seat, lightly cuffing the blonde man on the back of the head as he passed. "Make yerself useful, Drake, an' get the lady a chair."

Robert Drake gallantly stood, offering Rogue his seat. "Yeah well, if given the chance, I wouldn't have wasted my time on a lousy little peck on the cheek like that." He winked at Rogue before finding another chair to settle into.

"An' if given th' chance, Ah wouldn't waste mah time on th' likes o' y'all." Rogue smiled sweetly at the men around the table.

"Ouch."

"Shot down!"

"Were we just insulted? It sounded like we were just insulted..."

Jimmy picked up his cards once again and then leaned across the table towards Rogue. "The lady doesn't know what she's missing," he said with a sly grin, barely dodging the elbow Logan sent his way.

"Watch yer mouth, bub, before I shove my fist into it."

"So, are we playing poker or what?" Frank demanded, jumping into the conversation before it could escalate into an all-out fistfight.

"Yeah, we're playin'." Logan glanced to his right. "You want in on the next hand, kid?"

Rogue shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure, why not? If y'all don' mind losin' yoah money, then Ah don' mind takin' it from you."

"Lady sure is cocky," Jimmy added with a snort. "They teach you how to gamble properly at that college of yours?"

A bewitching smile graced her features. "Among othah things, sugah."

- oOo -

The cigarette in his hand was half an inch away from burning itself into ashes. He took one last puff before extinguishing it into the ashtray in front of him.

"Another shot, Remy?" inquired Sal, poising the bottle over a fresh glass.

"You tryin' t'get me drunk, _mon ami?"_ He smirked, leaning into the bar. "'Cause I'm gonna tell you right now, you ain't my type."

"As if I'd want your ugly mug." Sal pushed the shot glass towards him. "Don't even know how the ladies can stand looking at you."

"Dey usually have deir eyes closed, _homme."_ Grinning, Remy downed the liquor. "But den dey leave ev'ryt'in' _else_ open f'r me."

Sal shared his grin, but warned, "Better not let Ororo hear you talking like that. That broad would string you up by your innards without a second thought."

Remy shrugged. "Dat's another way t'spend an evenin'." Turning his head to the side, he noticed a leggy blonde coyly giving him a look. She was twisting the straw in her drink in a very suggestive manner. As if by instinct, he sent her a sly grin. "'Scuse me a moment, Sal, got some work t'do." He slid off the barstool and made his way into the crowd.

Sal watched as Remy approached the woman. He wasn't the least bit surprised when she allowed him to take her in his arms and whisper rather intimately into her ear.

_That kid's never gonna change,_ he thought with a smile, as he wiped down the bar. _Still quick as lightning, and twice as deadly..._

- oOo -

"You know, I'd swear you had cards up your sleeves," Bobby groaned, throwing the hand he'd been dealt onto the table. "If you were actually wearing any."

"Sugah, it's not mah fault you've got one o' th' most obvious tells Ah've evah seen."

"And what exactly would that be?"

"You bite yoah lower lip like a kid with his hand in th' cookie jar."

"Or a teen with his hand up his first skirt," Frank added helpfully. "Oh wait... for Bobby that would've been, what, last week?" Laughter erupted around the table.

"Shut up, you deadbeats."

Rogue couldn't help but smile right along with the rest of them. But she did eventually come to Bobby's defense. "Ah think it's kind o' cute. Endearin' even."

"Gee, thanks," Bobby said dryly.

She turned to her brother and asked, "Where's 'Ro? How come she ain't down here?"

"She's up in the office. Told me ta call her when the fight was about ta start." He looked at his watch. "Which would be right 'bout now. Think I'll go up an' get her."

"Ah'll come with you." Rogue stood, collecting her money and winking at the others. "Gentlemen. It'll be mah pleasure ta take all yoah money again, once th' fight's done."

When she and Logan were out of earshot, Jimmy let out a low whistle, admiring her retreating form. "You know what? I got no problem losing to _that."_

Scott frowned at him. "Better watch yourself, Jimmy. That's Logan's little sister you're drooling over."

"Chum, there ain't nothing little about her... not anymore."

"I gotta agree with Jimmy on this one, Scott. That girl's real easy on the eyes," Frank declared. "'Course _you_ don't really need to look no more. You gone and done right by yourself with Jeannie."

"That still doesn't change the fact that Logan will pound the shit out of you two if you so much as breathe wrong in her direction."

Bobby winced. "Yeah. Remember the time he caught me making out with her in high school? I was two steps shy from having every single one of my internal organs transplanted."

"He isn't kidding," Scott stated when the other two men looked at them in speculation. "It took three of us just to hold Logan back and get him calm enough to retract his claws."

"But still..." Jimmy said, taking a long swig of his beer, "that view just might be worth all the pain."

"You talkin' 'bout me behind my back, _mon ami?"_ Remy pulled up an empty seat between Scott and Frank. "Comments like dat jus' might make me blush."

Bobby looked at him in question. "Where have you been all night, Cajun? Out swiping car radios?"

"Ha-ha, _non."_ He flashed a table napkin with a hastily scribbled phone number and a thick kiss of blood-red lipstick. "Jus' addin' t' my collection."

Frank leaned over to take a closer look. "She worth it?"

Laughing, Remy answered, "Aren't dey all, _homme?"_

- oOo -

Without hesitation, Logan twisted the knob of the closed door and entered, Rogue trailing behind him. "'Ro?" he called out. "Darlin', you in here?"

"In the office, Logan," her voice came from the adjacent room.

Rogue looked around the reception area as they passed through it. "Sarah left early, huh?"

"Kid's takin' night classes now," he told her, removing the cigar from his mouth. "Big dreams on that one. She ain't gonna be our secretary fer long."

"That's good... fo' her, Ah mean." A second later, they reached the interior office. Seated behind the solid oak desk was a strikingly beautiful woman with stark white hair and rich mocha skin. "Evenin', 'Ro. Still workin' harder than yoah good-fo'-nothin' partner, Ah see."

"Rogue." Ororo smiled, standing to her full height. In three graceful strides she was across the room, with her arms wrapped around the younger woman. "It's good to have you back. I take it your summer break has started?"

"Yup. Y'all are gonna have ta put up with me fo' a while."

"We will manage somehow." She smiled again before turning back to the desk. "Is the fight starting already?"

Logan followed her, standing behind her chair and resting his hands on her shoulders. "'Bout ten minutes. You almost finished here?" His hands deftly kneaded the tension out of her muscles.

Closing her eyes and relaxing into his touch, Ororo couldn't help but moan softly. "Hmm... that's wonderful..."

Rogue cleared her throat, playfully getting their attention. "Y'all want Ah should leave th' room an' lock th' door on mah way out? Give you a li'l private time? 'Cause Ah _really_ don' wanna have ta stand here an' witness this, an' eventually go blind in th' process."

"Actually, that ain't such a bad idea, kid. Tell the boys ta start the fight without us."

"Logan!" Ororo chided, slightly embarrassed.

"What? Like the thought wasn't goin' through yer mind."

"Not in front of your sister, it wasn't." She stood once again and began organizing the paperwork she had been going through. "And certainly not in the office."

Logan encircled her waist with his arms, pulling her tightly against his body. "How would it be any different from the last time?" he whispered, so quietly that only she could hear him. He felt a shiver run through her.

"The difference," she responded, glancing over her shoulder, "would be in the audience that we have at the moment."

He grunted, reluctantly giving in. "Later then, darlin'?"

She smiled, kissing him lightly on the lips. "Later."

----

And you all thought... Oh, ye of little faith... ; )


	3. Cash and Cages

**Disclaimer: **Guess what the muse got the disclaimer for its birthday? You'll never guess... A white, rhinestone Elvis jumpsuit! And do you know what it's doing with it?! It's impersonating the King! Karaoke, disclaimer, and shiny rhinestones are _not_ an attractive combination, let me tell you... 

**A/N: **The outside of my house is currently being painted. That means nauseating fumes that are making me queasy. This is in no way helping my insanity... 

~ Panther Nesmith, KatLeBeau, Rehsh, T., Makura Koneko, girlonthem00n, Lemon Parade -- *leads group to jam-packed parking lot* Take your pick of any car you want. The only thing is, we've misplaced all the keys, so... *distributes sledgehammers* Be wary of the flying shards of glass... And if any alarm goes off, we've never met! : ) 

~ Disturbed Courtney -- Eep! Rushing the Remy/Rogue lovin'? Isn't that a bad thing? I mean, don't most women complain that they don't get enough forepl-- Oops! *bends to scoop mind out of gutter* ; ) 

~ Fleurdelys -- I find it so fascinating that your first language is French. While the rest of us are all faking it... : ) Bunnies are sold in pet stores? You mean they aren't specifically bred to wreak havoc in the world? 

~ Mag Carter -- I don't think I'll be able to rip anything off, especially not bunny parts. Who's to say that their blood isn't tainted? You know, a last ditch effort to kill me or something. I wouldn't put it past them. 

~ Ning Ning -- "Is this going to be a long one?" Well, let me put it this way, both _After Midnight_ and _Hazard_ were only supposed to be five chapters each. One ended with nineteen and the other with nine, so that should tell us something... (That I'm so long-winded that I am physically incapable of writing anything short? ... possibly. ; ) As for _The Madness Series_ -- Ooh, look at that! Shameless plugs left and right! -- you've probably guessed that it's one of those on-going fics. I write a chapter every now and then, in between the 'serious' stories. It's supposed to be a stress-reliever... until I get stuck on it and it becomes the stress-_producer!_ But no worries; I have the next few chapter ideas floating around in my brain... : ) 

~ ishandahalf -- 1) What?! Rogue left the table before Remy got there? No, she didn't! *looks over last chapter* ... huh... would you look at that... she did. 2) Are you _analyzing_ the story?! Trying to figure out if they're mutants or not, young Sherlock Holmes? If you do find something, could you clue me in? 'Cause I don't know what the hell's going on... 3) I'm attempting to see if I can pull off writing other couples, not just Rogue and Remy. So far there's Scott/Jean over in _Madness..._ and then Logan/Ororo here. Don't know if I'm doing so great, though... 4) WHAT?! NO CLIFFHANGER?! What the -- ? How the heck did that happen? *struggles against adamantium chains* C'mon! Let me go! Gotta fix it so that there's a cliffhanger in _every_ chapter! It just ain't right any other way! 

~ Eileen Blazer -- You have a corpse shoved in your bottom drawer? Doesn't that start to leave a smell after a while? ; ) ... "Splendiferific"? Coolness! You've made your own word! You better copyright that before someone -- *coughMEcough* -- steals it right out from under you. 

~ Alwaysright -- Well, you didn't give me much choice there, did you? You've already got the tent up in the corner, I see. Don't think I won't come over to hang out or something! I'm very adept at making an unwelcome guest out of myself! ; ) 

~ Rogue15 -- Well, you could always steal someone else's keyboard. And when they try to give you the entire system, be firm and say, "No, thank you. I'm good with just the 'board." ; ) 

~ Malena --- You're right, I couldn't stop grinning at that! What can I say? I never claimed to be sane. ; ) 

~ Christy S -- *proceeds to zip lips, then grins wickedly* 

~ Samman -- I got both your reviews, safe and sound with no problem. Many thanks for adding to the review count! 

~ Goddess Evie -- I don't think the bunnies like _anyone._

~ Green Eyed Lilys Daughter -- "Logan is Rogue's older sister"? *gasp!* Logan's a _transsexual?!_ When did that happen? (*grin* Don't mind me; I'm just being stupid today... ; ) 

~ melancholic -- I don't think the kissing of the feet is such a good idea right about now, fresh nail polish and all. Unless of course you like the polish-instead-of-lipstick look. : ) 

~ Marie -- But what if all those animal species decide to have a mutiny? Then what would we do? ... Flying monkeys, cool whip, weed whacker and a box of matches? Do I even want to know? 

~ SLH -- Wow, you actually understood my response to your first review? That's amazing, considering I didn't understand it myself! ; )   


**CHAPTER 3   
Cash and Cages**

_I checked my watch. It was about ten minutes to midnight. A little less than two hours since Miles left me here at the bar to attend to 'work.' Never really got a clear idea of what type of work he did exactly. Kind of got the impression that it wasn't all that clean, but what did I care? Miles was my cousin, and the closest thing I had to an older brother. He and I had been tight ever since he came to live with us when his parents died almost ten years ago. He'd moved out since then, going off to college and then eventually into the 'real' world. But we got together every once in a while just to hang out. _

I called him earlier that afternoon, told him about the breakup with Melanie. How she gave me the kiss of death, complete with a handful of salt and an open wound -- "I really like you, Brian, really I do. But I think we'd be better off as friends." Then two seconds later, asked for Rich's phone number. 

What the hell was that?! She couldn't possibly think she was being subtle. Unless she thought 'subtle' meant hitting me over the head with a two-by-four. I was beginning to understand why men considered women such a mystery; the more I learned, the less I knew. If that didn't make any sense at all, then you knew exactly what I was talking about. 

So there I was, so many hours after calling Miles, sitting in a bar that shouldn't have even let me near the front entrance, much less over the threshold. The beer in front of me had been sitting there ever since. I'd been sipping mostly, trying to make it last. Mainly because I didn't think the bartender would give me another if I'd order one. They were already bending the rules for me by letting me in; wouldn't want to push my luck any further. 

Speaking of luck... About an hour ago, one of the hottest women I'd ever laid eyes on had been breathing in my ear. **My ear.** Punch me now if that wasn't one of the sexiest turn-ons known to man. She had these big, shiny green eyes and a pouty smile. And that body... Let me just say that I was glad I was sitting down and facing the bar, and leave it at that. 

After she left me, I watched her make her way through the crowd, stopping at a table to the side, just off the main floor. I couldn't see exactly who was seated there, or even how many there were. Aside from a support beam that blocked my view, a waist-high wall sectioned off the area. Whoever sat at that table must have been important -- as important as someone could be in a bar, mind you. 

An arm slung itself over my shoulder. Miles. Finally done with 'work.' 

"So, little cousin," _he said with a sly grin,_ "you drunk yet?" 

"I wish." _I picked up my beer._ "This thing went warm 'bout an hour ago." 

"Well, that's as close to drunk as you're gonna get, kid. We already lied to your mom about what we were doing tonight. Imagine how much shit we'd get into if you came home plastered." _He tapped me on the head with the black notebook he was holding._

"What's that?" _I asked, curious. _

He followed my gaze. "Just work." 

_I scowled a little. My cousin wasn't the most detailed of people when it came to answering questions. _

Pulling me to my feet, he said, "Come on. I'll introduce you to Patch." 

"Patch?" 

_If he heard me, he didn't answer. Instead, I found myself being dragged to the exact table that I'd been staring at minutes before. It was a lot bigger than the rest of the ones in the bar, obviously meant to hold a larger group. I would've guessed fifteen at the most, though only five seats were currently being used. But from the looks of things, there were a few more people missing, including the girl I'd met earlier. The other unused chairs were stacked neatly in the far corner, next to an open door that lead into a back hallway. I have to admit, my curiosity was peaked. I wanted to find out where that hall led. The little adventurer in me was itching to explore. _

But my attention was drawn back to the people seated at the table. All of them were men; a few years older than Miles from what I could see. The one directly in front of me had sandy blonde, almost brown hair. He was the only one who looked around Miles' age. I immediately got the impression that he was the class clown. We walked in on the punch line, which got him mixed reactions from his friends -- a couple of chuckles, but mainly shakes of the head that made me think they wanted to shut him up more than anything else. 

The man to his right had brown hair. When he turned in his seat, I caught sight of red sunglasses covering his eyes. Funny that he was wearing them at night... indoors... in a dimly lit bar... But whatever... 

Next came another dark-haired guy. This one didn't even bother to glance in our direction when we walked up. He was leaning back in his chair like he didn't give a damn, and shuffling the deck of cards like a he'd been doing it since he popped out of his mother's womb. 

My eyes wandered over to the man at his side. What was with Miles' friends and dark hair? Was it like a mandatory thing or something? This one had jet-black curls that got into his eyes every now and then. He was stocky and buff, like he worked out twenty-four/seven, while the other three guys were on the leaner side. If he challenged me to an arm-wrestling match, I was going to give him a definite no. Maybe I could fake tennis elbow or something. 

The only man with any kind of color in his hair was last. He was a redhead with a scar on his upper lip that reminded me of a pirate. All he needed was a patch over one eye and a parrot on his shoulder demanding for a cracker. 

"Hey, Miles," _the bodybuilder said, resting his forearm on the back of his chair._ "We rolling in dough yet?" 

"Just about, Frankie." _He turned in my direction._ "Guys, this is Brian, my cousin. Brian, that's Jimmy, Frank, Remy, Scott and Bobby." 

"Hey." _I nodded in greeting. I was a little surprised when Scott extended his hand towards me._

"How're you doing, Brian?" _he asked. His polite tone seemed out of place in the middle of a bar with such a shady reputation, but I appreciated his friendliness. _

I took his hand and replied, "Not bad." 

_Next to me, Miles glanced around and asked,_ "Where's Patch?" 

"Right here." 

_I looked up and saw a man walk out of the door in the back. There was no doubting his position in the group. It was like he oozed power, making him look bigger and taller than he actually was. The gruff, don't-screw-around-with-me expression on his features didn't hurt either, I supposed. He reminded me of Couch Hendricks at school -- tough-as-nails, drill-sergeant kind of mean. The type who could make grown men wet themselves out of sheer intimidation._

"What's with Junior here, Miles?" _he asked, lighting his cigar. I swear it looked like the smoke was dancing around his face because he'd ordered it to._ "We get inta babysittin' without me knowin'?" 

_Funny enough, Miles didn't seem fazed at all, not even a hint of fear. I think I was scared enough for the both of us._

"This is my cousin Brian. Brian, this is Logan. He owns the bar." 

_I didn't really want to, but I made myself walk around the table and shake Logan's outstretched hand. I was afraid that if I didn't, he'd hurt me. And that wouldn't be a good thing._

"Cousin, huh?" _Logan looked me over like he was appraising my appearance._ "Yer lucky you don' look like Miles, kid. You still got a fightin' chance." _He motioned to the stacked chairs behind us._ "Get yerself a seat an' park it." 

_I didn't need to be told twice._

"Sal give you a beer at the bar?" _he asked once I'd settle down next to him._

"Yes, sir." 

_He smirked. I don't know if the 'sir' comment irked him or made him laugh. I would have to guess the latter since I still had all my body parts in proper working condition._

"Well, that means no more liquor then." 

_A voice called out,_"Why? Did you go an' drink it all, Logan?" 

_I knew that voice. It was the same as the one that had whispered in my ear an hour before. I turned. She was standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, with a smirk that looked almost exactly like Logan's._

"You gonna let him get away with that, 'Ro?" _she continued, addressing the woman behind her. _

I glanced in the other woman's direction and nearly had to pick my jaw up off the floor. Were all the women in this bar that gorgeous? No wonder Miles had no problem working into the wee hours of the morning. With motivation like that, who wouldn't? 

Instead of replying, the dark-skinned woman rested her hands on Logan's shoulders and said, "We have company tonight, I see." _She smiled at me before anyone could answer._ "I am Ororo Munroe. You must be Miles' cousin." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

_She smiled again, and then turned back to my hot girl._ "This is -- " 

"We already met, 'Ro. Back at th' bar." 

_I could've sworn Logan's eyebrows shot up at that declaration. He didn't say anything, though. Just pulled out a seat for Ororo and then looked past her towards Miles._ "So, we're closed?" 

_Miles nodded._ "Ten minutes before the fight. Right on schedule." 

"Any heavy hitters?" 

_They were obviously talking shop. Miles flipped his black notebook open and was thumbing through it._ "The usual. A handful of dollar bets, a few nickels." 

"Dimes?" 

"One or two. Not as many as there are when we have a champion bout." 

_Their words were going right over my head. Rogue must have noticed because she leaned towards me and asked,_ "Gettin' a li'l lost, sugah?" 

"Kind of. They're talking about betting, right?" 

"That's right. Miles is our resident bookie." _She frowned slightly when she saw my expression._ "You didn' know that?" 

"No." _I didn't really know if being a sports book was a good thing. Couldn't he get into trouble with the cops for what he was doing?_ "Is it legal?" 

_She smiled as she took a seat next to me._ "More or less. Th' cops don' really bother us, though." 

_That was supposed to comfort me, but I wasn't sure if I was all that comforted. The thought of Miles going to jail for being connected with some illegal gambling ring didn't really sit well with me. Still... a part of me couldn't help but feel impressed. It sounded like something straight out of a movie. Of course only Miles could have gone out and found a cool job like that. _

A question hit me. "Why are they talking about coins? Is that all a bet costs -- a dime?" 

_I must have said something funny 'cause Rogue chuckled._ "We're talkin' 'bout somethin' a li'l heftier than ten cents, sugah." _She set the drink she'd been holding down._ "A dollar bet is a hundred dollars, a nickel is five hundred, an' a dime is a thousand. Not exactly th' kind o' spare change you keep in yoah pocket." 

_My jaw must have hit the floor then. Whoa... that **was** a lot of money._

"What are they betting on?" 

_She pointed to the cage in the center of the bar. Not that I'd missed that particular feature walking in, but I kind of forgot about it in lieu of everything else. The proverbial elephant in the room, I guess._

"You see, _homme," the card-shuffler called from across the table -- Remy, I think it was._ "A couple o' old ladies are gonna step inta dat cage dere, an' when de bell sounds, dey're gonna start knittin' like crazy, see who c'n make a nice turtleneck de fastest." 

_Rogue turned to him._ "Then if that's th' case, Cajun, shouldn't you be gettin' ready fo' th' fight? Warm up yoah knittin' needles or somethin'?" 

"If I were gonna make anyt'in', _chère,_ it'd involve leather an' lace, a garter belt... an' you." 

_I stole a glance at Rogue then, expecting her to blush at such a fresh remark. Instead, I saw her roll her eyes and scoff. She reached over and picked up the table napkin that was in front of Remy._

"Why don' you get one o' yoah bunnies instead? What's yoah count up ta now -- a million an' one?" 

_"Non..._ but give me a few days..." 

_Disgust colored her features._ "What are you even doin' here? Shouldn't you be out skulkin' around some dark alley somewhere?" 

"I could ask de same t'ing o' you, _petite._ Dey finally come t'deir senses an' throw you out o' school?" 

_Scott cleared his throat and then glanced in my direction._ "Don't mind these two, Brian. We never do. It's probably that time of the month again... for both of them." 

"I beg ya pardon, _mon ami." Remy grinned._ "I don' get my period 'til next week." 

"If at all... You prob'ly got knocked up by some hussy on th' side o' th' road." 

"An' you'd know all about dat, wouldn't you, _chère?"_

"Gumbo." 

_The warning was subtle, low. We barely heard it over everything else in the room, but it was like a hand slamming onto the tabletop, stopping the line of conversation. I looked to my left. Logan was still talking to Miles about the night's betting status, but he'd taken a second to referee the exchange on the other side of the table. I wondered why._

"Go figure," _the sandy blonde -- Bobby -- was saying under his breath._ "Jimmy makes one joke and he nearly gets a gut full of claws. The Cajun's been going on for a solid five minutes and all he gets is a slap on the wrist." 

"Still perfectin' dat whinin' talent o' yours, eh, _homme?"_

_Rogue stood._ "Ah'm gonna go see if Ah can't grab somethin' ta eat in th' back. Anybody want anythin'?" _When the others shook their heads, she looked at me._ "What about you, sugah?" 

"No thanks," _I said, following her movements as she disappeared through the door she'd come out of earlier. I turned back to the table and noticed that nearly everyone else had been watching her leave, too. _

Everyone but the Cajun, that was. 

Again, I wondered why. 

---- 

Wow, talk about the story writing itself. I didn't even think much about the OC's when this fic started, and now one of them took over an entire chapter! Man, the things they do to get their lousy fifteen minutes of fame... 

Oh yeah... if anyone else is interested in being part of the Hit List just leave your email address on the Review Board. 


	4. Bells and Blows

**Disclaimer: **I'd advise you all to stay off of the roads for... oh, the next seventy years or so. The disclaimer is learning how to drive. Repeat: disclaimer on the road! Disclaimer on the road! For the love of heaven, people, _move!_

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone that has been reviewing the older fics under my name. I don't get a chance to reply to your reviews because those stories have already ended -- with the possible exception of _Hazard_ -- so I'm taking the opportunity now to bow down in absolute gratitude. : )

~ Lucky439, T., roryrogue, Ning Ning, Lady Unlucky, KatLeBeau, Lemon Parade, Makura Koneko -- Karaoke anyone? A sure-fire way to make idiots of ourselves! Well... out of me, at least. But that'll be fun, too! : )

~ Disturbed Courtney -- *returns to gutter* I _definitely_ agree with you on the Remy oozing sensuality front. But wouldn't it be all the better mixing that Cajun _with_ foreplay? Oh wait... image entering my brain... fantasy starting up... aaaannnddd yup, you've officially lost me. I'm gonna need a minute... (hour... year... ; )

~ Amber Myst -- You'd be surprised. This writing-by-the-seat-of-my-pants method is giving me more trouble than I'd care to admit. I'm getting stuck an awful lot, whereas before -- with the planned chapters and plot -- I had a goal to reach, something to achieve with each installment. Here I don't have that, and I'm writing blindly. It's frustrating as hell, to be honest. And the plot bunnies have all but beaten me into a bloody pulp!

~ Green Eyed Lilys Daughter -- Hmph! Logan's getting all Hollywood star on us, eh? Get a couple of hit movies, and it all goes to his head... So you're saying you're _against_ a sequel to _Hazard?_ Really? 'Cause I had plans of continuing that fic eventually... hopefully... : )

~ Eileen Blazer -- _Bodies?!_ Are you starting your own mortuary? *Leans in close and whispers* Do you take in plot bunnies?

~ xxFleurdelySxx -- You're being French fascinates me because, if you wanted to, you could write an entire conversation between, let's say, Remy and Henri, and have it be completely authentic. While the rest of us would be using a translator that wouldn't be half as good. Btw, I was wondering, when writing _chèrie_ -- is that the correct accent? Or is it written _chérie_? That's been bugging me for the longest time because I'm so used to typing the first one.

~ girl4chat86 -- Well, if you get any dizzier from this fic, the bunnies have a supply of barf bags stored somewhere. I think they were planning to make the readers sick all along...

~ Rupeshwari -- Your hotmail add is on the Hit List so I don't really know why you aren't getting notified whenever there's an update. Unless you've changed your email address? Or maybe it _is_ a conspiracy, and the bunnies are stealing all your mail! ... I know what you mean about the sibling-embracing thing. I'm not so physically affectionate with my brother either. But I know that other people are like that, so I guess Logan and Rogue fall in that category...

~ Christy S -- Well, that's the problem with spell-checkers; they won't pick up on the 'brain' thing since technically speaking, it wasn't misspelled. Just a result of going over the chapter so much that my own eyes missed it. Or the bunnies could have switched them around. Personally, I'm going with the latter theory.

~ melancholic -- Ooh, I think the power company wants to speak to you about that little global blackout you caused... : )

~ ishandahalf -- 1) Well, I know you're on vacation right now -- and yes, I purposely uploaded when you weren't around! Bwahaha! ; ) -- so you won't even get to read this until you get back... Good luck with playing fan fic catch-up! 2) Ooh, Logan so heard you and that 'fluffy puppy' comment! Run, woman, run! While you still can!

~ Ledophole -- Ahh, we'd be lucky if the interval between these chapters is _just_ two weeks. If we followed _Hazard's_ schedule then we'd be waiting an entire month, if not more! As for Marie... well, I have to save _some_ information for the sequel! How anti-climatic would that be if I just came right out and told you? All I'm gonna say is, it ain't pretty, and leave it at that... ; )

~ missy42 -- 1) And I miss typing your name in the little responses at the beginning of each chapter! Draco and the gang miss you, too. They keep grumbling that you don't come to the poker games anymore -- and that I'm the only shmuck around to win money from... 2) *sigh* I miss Broadway's writing. She kind of left us hanging with a number of her fics. Grrr... 3) Thanks for the recommendation! I've never actually heard that song before, but when you mentioned it I went hunting for the complete lyrics. And you're right, I _can_ work that in for the first part of the story. It's already helping me to expand on my original ideas. Here's hoping that I get around to actually writing it! Thanks again! : )

~ Panther Nesmith -- *surveys parking lot* So I'm guessing you didn't want to keep at least one of those cars for yourself? Not even the silver Ferrari in the corner? Or the red Lamborghini in the back? ; )

~ Mag Carter -- You know, I was debating whether or not to make Frank, Frank Castle a.k.a. The Punisher. Both are dark-haired and well built. I still don't know... Maybe if it serves some kind of purpose later in the story. But so far, both Frank and Jimmy are OC's, as is Sal, Miles and Brian.

~ Goddess Evie -- What about those puffy cotton tails or the long fuzzy ears? Can't the bunnies type with those?

~ Marie -- Yeah, let's do that! I'll get the rum, you bring the island! ; )

**CHAPTER 4  
Bells and Blows**

The first punch was a sharp left to the side of the head, followed immediately by a right hook to the body. Then came a succession of blows, one right after the other, so quick it barely gave his opponent time to breathe much less counterattack. He shouldn't have been doing this well. He shouldn't have been landing this many hits. He should have been knocked out flat on his back, the other fighter towering over him in victory.

But he wasn't on the floor.

And he _was_ winning.

Despite the three-inch, twenty-pound difference.

And damn, did it feel good.

His right fist came up again, making merciless contact with the taller man's jaw. The sound was sickening. Loud. Cracking. Blood flying from the corner of the other man's mouth and splattering the pure white fabric of a woman's blouse in the front row. An apology rose to the forefront of his brain but never made it to his lips. His mama raised him right; manners were important. Especially where women were concerned. But manners didn't have a place in the fighting ring. Manners got you broken bones and bloody body parts. In this case, it almost got him his spleen handed back to him.

He sidestepped, dodging the clumsy punch aimed for his face. Raising his arm, he brought his elbow down onto his opponent's skull, just above his ear. The man swayed on his feet slightly, before collapsing to his knees, and eventually the floor.

The crowd roared.

The bell sounded.

He'd won.

From where he sat on the sidelines, Logan couldn't help but feel impressed. He wouldn't admit that out loud, of course, but he felt it nonetheless. He and the boys hadn't thought much of the kid when he approached them about fighting in one of the night's bouts. He was little more than a toothpick, in Logan's opinion -- more skin and bones than actual flesh. They were going to refuse his application, save him the trip to the hospital's emergency room at one o'clock in the morning. But the kid was insistent, claiming he was a better fighter than he looked. Logan grunted. Kid had actually been telling the truth. He wasn't just blowing smoke out of his ass.

Logan watched as the kid stepped out of the cage, leaving his unconscious opponent on the floor. Some of the men in the crowd were patting him on the back in cheery congratulations as he passed. In truth they were more ecstatic with their betting results rather than with the winner himself, but the kid knew that. He nodded politely, and continued on his way toward the main table. Halfway there, he was met by the bar's owner.

"Not bad, kid," greeted Logan, tossing him a clean towel. "Not bad at all."

"Thanks."

"What'd you say yer name was?"

"Sam. Sam Guthrie." He hesitated, not quite sure how to say what he wanted to say. He decided to be blunt. Logan seemed the type that liked blunt. "So can Ah fight here again?"

Logan snorted, puffing on his cigar. "You got brass, hayseed. I like that." He handed the boy a thick, white envelope. "Sure, you can fight again... on one condition."

Sam's hand hovered over the envelope, cautious of the 'condition.' If the price of this gig turned out to be too steep, he'd walk away, no matter how much he could make with only one night's work. There were other things more important than the money cage fighting could offer. "An' what's that, sir?"

"You tell me what it is yer fightin' so damned hard for."

He hadn't been expecting that. "Excuse me?"

"There's somethin' yer tryin' ta protect. _Someone,_ actually." Logan nodded, as if confirming the statement with himself. "Someone important to you."

Sam shook his head. "With all due respect, sir, where are you gettin' this from?"

"I've seen that look before, kid... in the mirror. It's raw determination mixed with the stubbornness o' ten jackasses. Stubbornness 'cause if you fail, it ain't only you goin' down but someone else, too." He pointed over his shoulder to a young woman with auburn and white hair, laughing along with a table full of people. "That's who I was protectin'." His eyes softened, as if he was remembering past events. Judging by his expression, they were bittersweet memories. Then, just as suddenly, his gruff demeanor returned. "One stupid mistake an' she would've taken the fall with me. I was fightin' jus' as hard as you are ta make sure that didn' happen."

"You were a fighter then?"

Logan nodded. "Fer seven years. It ain't a pretty life, but it's good money. Enough ta take care o' the ones that count."

"So she's yoah...?"

"Sister." Logan smirked, suddenly recognizing the thought that was flitting through the younger man's mind. "Hey, I ain't some dirty old man who's inta cradle snatchin'."

Afraid that he'd unconsciously offended him, Sam stammered, "O' course not, sir. It's jus' that... well..."

"We don' much look alike?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Yeah, we get that a lot." Taking another puff of his cigar, he explained, "Technically, we're half-siblings. Kid looks like her mom... tall, leggy brunette. Me? I take after the old man." Logan's hand shot out, snatching two beers from the tray that a passing waitress was carrying.

The waitress turned angrily, ready to chew the person out, when she recognized her employer and quickly shut her mouth. She left without a word, but Logan's heightened senses caught her grumbling under her breath about another trip back to the bar.

He handed one of the beers to Sam and led him to the nearest vacant table. "Don' know why I'm spillin' my guts out to you, kid; usually ain't this loose-lipped. Maybe it's 'cause I like you. You remind me o' me." He raised the beer bottle to his lips and took a hearty swig. "So who is it?"

"Huh?"

"Who're you gettin' all bloodied up fer? A girlfriend? A wife? A kid?"

"Actually... a sister." Sam took his own deep drink from his beer. "Mah sister Paige. She's fifteen."

"An' that would make you...?"

"Twenty."

"You runaways?"

"No," replied Sam, shaking his head. "Well, not by choice anyway."

Logan raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

Sam hesitated. This man was a virtual stranger; he'd only met him earlier that afternoon. But he seemed nice enough, trustworthy... honorable.

"There were these men..." he began shakily. Logan could tell that the memories were fresh, still raw on his nerves. Whatever it was, it had been recent. "Mah daddy borrowed some money from them. He didn' really have much o' a choice. There were eight o' us kids ta feed an' his job in the mines wasn't hardly enough. The men came ta collect an' Pa jus' didn' have it all..." Sam looked away, but not before Logan saw the pain in his eyes. "They made it look like a gas leak... Paige an' Ah were comin' home from the late shift..."

Though he wasn't much of the sentimental type, Logan gripped the younger man's shoulder in sympathy. To lose your entire family, just like that? He didn't even want to imagine it. He already went berserk when someone even _looked_ at Rogue or Ororo funny, what more if someone actually took them away from him? He wanted to growl at the prospect.

"I'm sorry, kid," he murmured instead. "I really am."

"Thank you." Sam tried to cover up his sudden vulnerability with another swig of beer. "We're okay -- Paige an' Ah... we're doin' okay."

"She still in school?"

"Yes, sir. She'll be a junior come fall."

"That's good; school's important an' everything." Logan's cigar stopped midway to his mouth. "Where is she now?"

"In our apartment, down on Fisher Street."

"Fisher Street? That's a rough neighborhood, kid. That ain't no place fer yer sister."

"Believe me, sir, Ah know. Once we get a li'l bit more money, we'll look fo' a better place. Somewhere nice."

"You could stay here."

Sam was shocked. "Excuse me?"

The look on Logan's face must have matched Sam's. The older man had no idea where those four words had come from, or why they seemed to have exited his mouth. He wasn't in the habit of inviting anyone to stay with them. Why was he starting now?

"Through that door is our house an' some o' the private offices," he said slowly, testing the words out on his tongue. It didn't feel wrong saying them. In fact, it actually felt right. Logan hadn't been lying when he told Sam that he reminded him of his younger days. If the kid was just trying to provide for himself and his sister, then he could use all the help he could get. "We got plenty o' room. Wouldn't be a problem."

"Ah... Ah don' know what ta say..." The offer was more than generous. After their family's deaths, the bank had taken the house and most of their furniture, leaving Sam and Paige with next to nothing of worth. They'd left Kentucky not only to escape their father's loan sharks, but also to find work. They'd only barely managed to get by. And with the increasing cost of Paige's school needs, it wouldn't have been long until they couldn't even afford the beaten-down, one-room apartment they were currently residing in. "Not ta be rude or anythin'," Sam continued, "but why would you open yoah home ta someone you jus' met a few hours ago?"

Shrugging, Logan replied, "Beats the hell out o' me, kid." He tapped his nose. "You don' smell like trouble. In fact, you smell as clean as they come. I'm goin' on my instincts here, an' they're never wrong."

Sam was sorely tempted to say yes. He wanted to get Paige out of their neighborhood as fast as possible. But if this place wasn't any better... He glanced at the girl with the auburn and white hair. Though she was roughly his age, she reminded him of his sister. Charming, sweet and smiling. Logan noticed the direction his gaze had wandered, and half-turned as well. Sam caught that softened expression once again, and knew that there wasn't anything to worry about. They would be safe there.

"Can Ah run yoah offer by Paige first? See how she feels 'bout it all?"

"Sure, kid, jus' let me know." Logan stood, draining the last of his beer. "Bring her around sometime, let her see the place." Holding out his hand, he said, "You got a fight tomorrow. Midnight sharp."

"Yes, sir," Sam said, rising and then shaking the older man's hand.

With a curt nod, Logan turned and made his way back to the main table.

- oOo -

"What is that, Remy, your fifth beer?" Ororo inquired, approaching the Cajun who'd gone to the bar for another drink. When standing, he was a good four inches taller than her. But as he sat perched on a bar stool, they came to about the same height. "Are you not intoxicated yet?"

"I'm still t'inkin' straight, _chère,_ so I'm guessin' dat's a no." He winked cheekily at her.

"Well, since you're still lucid, perhaps you'd like to explain _this_ to me?" She held in her hand the table napkin with the phone number and lipstick mark.

"What would you like me t'explain? How dey made de napkin, or how dey get dose cute li'l designs on de top?"

"How about why you find it necessary to jump from one woman to the next?"

"I don' 'jump,' _chère,_ I glide. De _femmes_ jus' seem t'follow along."

"Remy..."

He made a extravagant show of sighing. "We've been down dis road before, 'Ro. I am like I am, an' you don' approve. T'ought we'd covered dis already."

"Yes, we have, but..." She sighed herself, taking one of his hands into her own. "I just want you to be happy."

"I _am_ happy, 'Ro. As much as a t'ief like me c'n be."

She caught his gaze and whispered softly, "Are you really, Remy? Truly? It doesn't seem so to me."

"'M sorry if we all can't be sickeningly in love like you an' Logan... Wolverine... Patch... I-have-more-names-dan-my-_maman_-could-fit-on-de-birth-certificate over dere."

She smiled despite herself. "You're impossible."

"An' you love me f'r it."

"Goddess, help me, I do." She leaned forward and kissed him on the temple. "Are you staying here tonight?"

He smirked. "You ask me dat ev'ry night an' I always say de same t'ing: 'I got somewhere else t'be.'"

"Remy, it's almost three o'clock in the morning -- "

"' -- an' it's way past ya bedtime, young man,'" he joked, teasing her with a matronly sounding voice. "I'm a grown boy, _chèrie._ C'n take care o' myself."

"You never let me win an argument, do you?"

"Not if I c'n help it, no."

"One of these days, I will follow you just so that I can see for myself how you spend your nights."

He turned wide, shocked eyes to her. "_Mademoiselle,_ I'm speechless. Didn' know you were inta watchin'. Dat's kind o' kinky."

She slapped him lightly on the arm before changing the subject. "It seems strange that this place is so quiet after being so loud only a few hours ago."

Remy followed her gaze around the bar. True, most of the audience had gone home after the fights were through for the night. Only a handful of regulars and some betting winners had stayed for another round of alcohol. "Kind o' feels like a ghost town, don' it? Scott, Jimmy an' Frank headed home 'bout an hour ago. Ice-Pick stickin' around?"

"That's unlikely, unless he's too drunk to get himself a taxi. Though Sal will probably do that for him."

"What about Miles an' de baby?"

"Brian," she corrected with a small smile. "They left as well, just after the fight. Apparently, his young cousin has a curfew that they were thirty minutes late for."

"What about you, _chère?_ Poppa Logan got you on a curfew, too?"

She shot him a stern look, though there was a definite twinkle in her eye. "What makes you so sure that I am not the one setting the curfew for him?"

Remy grinned at that. "A dominatrix, are you, 'Ro? Who would've thought?"

Before Ororo could reply, a distinct voice carried itself across the room. A distinct voice with a prominent Mississippi accent.

"Ah _do_ have mah own apartment, Logan," Rogue declared hotly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I know you do, darlin', but it's three a.m. an' yer apartment's clear across town. Yer stayin' here fer the rest o' the night." He snuffed out his cigar and stood, clearly ready to face off with his sister.

"Ah'll take one o' th' cars then. Be home in twenty minutes, tops."

"An' get jumped while gettin' from the car ta the parkin' garage elevator?" He snorted. "Yeah, right."

"You realize Ah've been livin' on mah own fo' three years now, right? Ah can get to an' from someplace without anythin' happenin' ta me."

"It only takes one time, kid."

"You can't stand ovah me twenty-four/seven, you know."

"Watch me."

Rogue threw her hands up. "Oh mah Lord, yoah impossible!"

He glared at her, his expression serious. "Better that than havin' some flatfoot knock at my door tellin' me that yer lyin' face down in some ditch at the side o' the road."

She glared her own daggers back at him, mainly because she had nothing to retort with. He always had to end with that. How could you win against something like that?

"Perhaps," interrupted Ororo, approaching the two, "Remy could bring Rogue home? After all, he is on his way out as well."

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Never mind then," she mumbled testily. "Ah'll be safer in mah old room than in a car with him fo' twenty whole minutes." She walked over to her brother. "Ah'm still pissed at you, y'know."

He grunted. "What else is new?" Wrapping his right arm over her shoulders, he pulled her close. "Night, kid."

"Mornin', Logan." She smiled, though he couldn't see it. It was an old joke between them, born out of the countless times when the early morning became their night, and the early night became their morning. Rogue turned to the others, and called, "Night, y'all."

- oOo -

Nearly an hour later, Rogue stepped out of her bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around her body and another working the moisture out of her hair. It always felt strange to be back in her old room. It was familiar, and yet... not. As if she had grown, but it hadn't. She couldn't really explain it.

_Maybe Ah shouldn't even try,_ she thought as she settled down in front of the mirror. _Maybe it's jus' too complicated fo' a night when Ah'm so beat._ It felt like the weeks of late night cram sessions and last minute requirements were catching up to her. The bath had helped, but her body still felt heavy, weary.

A tinkling noise caught her attention and she started. The sound was out of place in the otherwise silent house. A chill ran up her spine. She tried to narrow down the possible sources of the disturbance. Logan and Ororo's room down the hall? One of the rooms downstairs? The windows?

She turned, squinting to concentrate on the shapes dancing through her wispy curtains. Wind chimes. She'd forgotten about them. They were a graduation gift from a high school friend.

Sighing, she picked up a brush and began running it through her damp cinnamon locks. They pressed close to her scalp, ridding the strands of their ever-present curl. A memory suddenly floated into her mind.

"Momma! Momma! Ah found it!" a cheery six-year-old voice called. "Momma!"

Her mother smiled at her; brilliant, beautiful emerald green eyes shining down. "All right, sugah, sit here. Right in front of me."

The little girl obeyed, climbing onto the big wooden chest at the foot of the bed. "How many times we gots ta brush it again, Momma?" She sat up straighter as the brush glided through her hair.

"Fifty times. Do you know how many fifty is?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Logan showed me. It's this many." She held up ten fingers. "But lots more."

Chuckling slightly, her mother said, "That's right, sweetie, it's that many. But if you want yoah hair really pretty, you should brush it one hundred times."

Her small face scrunched up in a frown. "How many's one hundred, Momma?"

"Well... it's this," her mother reached around her and spread out the little girl's hands once again, "but lots, _lots_ more."

"But that's a lot!" she protested, pouting slightly. "What if we break th' brush?"

Her mother laughed. "Well then, we'll just have ta ask yoah daddy ta get you a new one, now won't we?"

Rogue smiled as the image of her mother faded into the recesses of her mind. It had been a while since she'd thought of her. Much too long, actually. Was it possible that she was slowly forgetting her parents altogether? Forgetting who they were, or even what they looked like?

_But that's silly,_ she said to herself as she studied her reflection in the mirror. _Ah can't possibly fo'get what Momma looks like. Not when Logan keeps tellin' me how much Ah look like her._

Rogue was so intent in her thoughts that she never sensed the other presence in the room. Not until a hand clamped itself firmly over her mouth, preventing her from making any sound.

----

*looks right, looks left, then steps forward and hugs cliffhanger*  
It just wasn't the same without you!

What is with these characters?! All of them seem to keep popping up without so much as a by your leave!  
*grumble, grumble*

Quick note that I forgot to mention in the earlier chapters. The name 'Patch' is actually an alias that Logan used to go by in the comics. Especially when he was in Madripoor, if I'm not mistaken.

And lastly, sad to say I might not have much time for fan fiction in the coming months -- No! NO! _NO!_ *breaks down and cries.* I might be starting a new job this week and I don't think they'd like it very much if I spent all my time reading and writing fics -- dammit! There's got to be a job out there somewhere that let's me do that...


	5. Kidnaps and Captures

**Disclaimer: **The disclaimer and I are taking a survey today. How many of you nearly fell out of your chairs in shock when you saw the new chapter? It's been so very long, I know... but hey, at least you all know I'm still breathing... : )

**A/N: **Yes, I am still alive! Work has been slowly sucking my life away, but I finally got something down. Now if I only had the time to play catch-up with all the fics I was following! ARGH! Life sucks! No, actually work sucks, but the paychecks are nice... and so are the people... Except one, who is confusing the hell out of me... right, ish? wink, wink : ) ... Okay, we are _so_ going off topic now...

Mag Carter, xxFleurdelySxx, Rehsh, Christy S, T., brattax23, Rogue151, melancholic, summer2004, Goddess Evie, Ledophole, Kanshisha Tenshi, Lil' old me, Ryoko Subaru, ladychopsticks, warknyte, Rogue Pryde, Kiki Lee, Wishful Thinking2, ChaosCat, PyroSprite -- Thank you guys for sticking it out with me! Thanks for all the encouragement and even the death threats! Anyone got any suggestions for the freebies this chapter? ; )

RoryRogue -- Thanks for the well wishes on my job. It's pretty good so far. I like the people immensely, so even though the hours are long and the work is maddening sometimes, my friends make it bearable... And even if sassiness wasn't a word, you could go ahead and make it one! Copyright, copyright, copyright: )

Misa1124 -- That's actually a good thing because I don't have any idea what I'm planning for this story either: )

Panther Nesmith -- grin Me, being predictable? Perish the thought. Ain't gonna happen, my friend... not while I still have breath in my body to fend off those damn plot bunnies!

Green Eyed Lilys Daughter -- I know what you mean about fics and their sequels. And yeah, I hope that doesn't happen to _Hazard._ I _do_ love how it ended, but it still feels unfinished to me. Hopefully, I can do something about that in the future. If my muse would just get his rear in gear...

Disturbed Courtney -- Okay, I haven't been on the site that much in the past two months but as far as I know a certain _someone_ hasn't updated anything either... Not that I'm pointing fingers or anything... holds up enormous neon sign with an arrow pointing to Courtney : )

KatLeBeau -- Ahh, in a perfect world, there would be pizza and pasta galore, potato chips and ice cream that won't make you fat, paychecks that arrive at your doorstep without having to report to work, and yes, Rogue and Remy always ending up together... Where is that world and how soon can I move there?! ; ) ... Sam isn't 'loosely based' on Cannonball because he actually _is_ Cannonball. I don't know why, but he's one of my favorite secondary characters to play with...

girl4chat86 -- Whoa... kudos to you for trying that 50-times-brushing-your-hair thing. I think I tried that once, and then got bored with it... : ) Oh Lord, don't get any more members of the animal kingdom involved! Have mercy!

Lemon Parade -- What?! NOOOOO! That's it? Where's the rest of it?! It's such a gripping review board-saga! I _have_ to know what happens!

Warmer Than Fire -- _Hazard_ is supposed to have a sequel, but I'm working my way through this and _Madness..._ first, before I go back to that one... Maybe if I got a clone that would help...

Makura Koneko -- A temptress actually, not so much a devil. ; ) To be honest, my thinking at the time of the last chapter was that I wanted to get _something_ up before I started the job, which began the day after the last post. It just so happened that that chapter ended in a cliffhanger. Or maybe the bunnies were scheming again...

Eileen Blazer -- Do I need a job? No, not really... Do I need paychecks? Oh, most definitely! ; )

Scrambled Thoughts -- First off, _love_ your screen name! Second, thanks for the kind words, and I'll do my best about working on _Madness..._ next!

Rupeshwari -- Funny thing about my job is that I'm in front of a computer for the entire day but I have no time to read any fic! Can we say 'sucks beyond belief'?

katjen -- "you can ask my chair." Would it be weird for me to admit that I was two seconds away from actually doing that: ) Thank you so much for the kind words! That means so much since I enjoy reading your work, as well. : )

Marie/River Rat -- No! Hold the monkeys back! ; )

ishandahalf -- 1) Logan is _so_ not happy about being called Mr. Scruffy Puppy. He would like a word with you... 2) I think the whole 'ditch' thing must have been taught to our parents in their parents' training class or something. What other explanation could there be? 3) sigh If only that Mark scenario would happen. Unfortunately, it's another type of saga that's playing itself out...

Ning Ning -- Although it's _way_ overdue... WELCOME BACK! And there's a new chapter, so I hope that helps... : )

**CHAPTER 5  
Kidnaps and Captures**

"Not a word," the voice breathed in her ear. He had whipped her around so fast that she hadn't gotten the chance to see his reflection in her vanity mirror. "Not a word," he repeated.

The hand at her mouth loosened somewhat, but another snaked itself around her waist, holding her firmly against him. A chill ran down her spine.

- oOo -

"Darlin', thought we agreed that work stays in the office," Logan grumbled as he watched Ororo thumb through the set of record books she had brought up to their room.

Ororo smiled. "As I recall, Logan, I agreed to nothing. It was you who assumed that I had done such."

"Well, I thought all the moanin' an' whimperin' was as good as any 'yes' was gonna get." He walked over and took her hands away from what they were doing.

"I beg your pardon, but I do not whimper."

Cocking an eyebrow, he smirked. "That so?" He easily pinned her to the bed, supporting his weight on his forearms and leaning down towards her until they were only a breath apart. "Betcha I can prove you wrong."

"You are welcome to try," she challenged. The tone of her voice was stern, but the ankle that was snaking its way up the side of his leg was sending off a different meaning.

He dipped his head to the base of her neck, lightly brushing his lips over her skin. The sound that escaped from her throat was definitely not a whimper, but more of a contented purr. Logan grunted in satisfaction.

"Li'l more o' this, darlin', an' you'll be -- " His head shot up suddenly and he glared at the closed door of their bedroom.

Feeling the inklings of a spoiled mood, Ororo questioned, "What is it?" She watched as his eyes narrowed in concentration. He was listening for something.

"Thought I heard Rogue..."

Beneath him Ororo sighed heavily before she let herself fall back onto the bed. "Are we going to have _this_ discussion once again?"

His gaze whipped back to her. "What's that s'pposed ta mean?"

"Need I remind you of what happened the last time your sister slept here and you 'thought' you heard something from her room?" When he didn't answer her, she continued, "You barged in on her while she was taking a bath, and the two of you began an argument that could have woken up the rest of the world."

"What, now there's a rule that I can't make sure the kid's safe?"

"She _is_ safe, Logan, you already make sure of that. You do not have to go running to her side every time you believe she is in trouble." She smiled softly at him, taking the edge off her voice. "If you have not noticed, your sister is more than capable of taking care of herself."

He had to smile at that comment. Rogue was a good fighter; he'd made sure of that. There was no way he was going to let his baby sister grow up without knowing how to protect herself against people that were out to hurt her. Especially not when they spent so many nights in bars filled to capacity with alcohol and men with grabby hands.

But just because she was capable of literally bringing a person to their knees didn't mean that he didn't worry. Of course he did. He was her older brother. No matter how old she became, or how 'grown up' she thought she was, she would still be his kid sister. And that wasn't about to change anytime soon.

"It'll only take a minute, 'Ro," he said, already preparing to slid off the bed. "Down the hall an' back."

"Let us analyze your options here, shall we?" Ororo pulled herself back against the headboard, curling her feet under her. "You could remain here with me, enjoy what I promise will be an entertaining evening. Or..." She folded her hands in her lap. "You could crash into Rogue's bedroom, start yet another disagreement, and end up tense and angry for the remainder of the evening."

Logan studied her features. They were as calm and serene as always. Ororo wasn't giving him an ultimatum with her little speech; she was simply stating fact. When it all came down to it, those were his two choices: to pick a fight with his sister over what now seemed to be nothing, or to stay in bed with his girlfriend. It was a no-brainer to anyone who was breathing.

He grinned. "Entertain', huh?"

- oOo -

_Ah never really gave personal space much thought until someone actually came up an' stole a li'l bit o' it from me. Evah notice how you don' really mind if certain people invade yoah space, but when othah people do -- people you don' really like -- yoah like a bat outta hell? Guess it depended on who was doin' th' invadin'. _

_Take, fo' example, this man. Came out o' nowhere, invaded not only mah home, but also mah space. Bad move, mistah. Ah don' take lightly ta intruders. First things first. Ah slammed mah heel onta his foot. Didn' really do much since he was still wearin' boots, but at least it distracted him enough so that Ah could bring mah knee inta his groin. That would keep him singin' a few high notes fo' a while. Two seconds later, th' heel o' mah palm was connectin' with th' tip o' his nose, an' he fell backwards onta th' bed. Logan would have been proud. _

_Ah, on th' othah hand, was shocked._

"Remind me not t'get on ya bad side anytime soon, _chèrie."_

_Ah must have blinked three times before mah feet would listen ta mah brain an' carried me closer ta mah bed._ "Remy...?"

_Th' corner o' his lips tugged inta a grin._ "Or what's left o' me... after dat beatin'."

"What th' hell do you think yoah doin' here?!" _Ah grabbed fo' th' box o' tissue on th' nightstand. It was kind o' funny actually; Ah was sittin' there scoldin' him an' nursin' him at th' same time._

"Midnight stroll around de block?" _His grin grew wider._

"If Logan catches you here, he'll slice you -- "

" -- six ways from Sunday." _Ah hated it when he imitated mah accent. He always made it sound dramatic an' Scarlett-O'Hara-like._ "De t'ing is, ya brother's attendin' t' some other business at de moment." _He winked cheekily._ "He's gon' be busy f'r a while."

_Ah shook mah head at him._ "You shouldn't have come here."

"An' you should've gone home."

"Ah tried! You were there! You saw how Logan wouldn't let me leave."

"An' what about when 'Ro offered dat I take you home? Dat would've saved us some time, _chère."_

"So Logan an' 'Ro could get suspicious as ta why Ah'm all o' a sudden so eager ta get inta th' same car as you when we've been at each othah's throats fo' th' past five years?" _Ah must have dabbed at th' blood on his nose jus' a li'l too roughly 'cause he winced away from mah touch. Softenin' a bit, Ah continued,_ "That would've been too much o' a one-eighty, don'tcha think?"

_He didn' say anythin'. He didn't have to. Ah knew what he was thinkin'. Remy wasn't too fond o' th' secret romance. Ta be honest, neither was Ah. But we didn' really have a choice. Logan's track record with mah past relationships had been -- ta put it mildly -- bloody an' chaotic. In th' history o' all th' world, Ah don' think there was evah such a protective older brother like Logan. _

_Now as a friend, Logan would easily put his life in Remy's hands. Trust in that respect was not an issue. Puttin' his baby sister in Remy's hands? Now that was a whole othah ballgame._

"You can't stay here," _Ah told Remy, tossin' th' soiled tissues inta th' trash._

"Jus' watch me."

_Ah looked down at him lyin' on mah bed, lookin' all stunningly gorgeous. Damn th' man._ "Ah'm serious."

"So am I."

"We're gonna get caught..." _Felt like Ah was bein' pulled down t'wards him, but Ah could have sworn that both his hands were at his sides._

"Least we'll have fun before we are..."

"Yoah impossible."

"So I've been told."

"Ah should kick you out o' here."

"But ya not goin' to."

"How can you be so sure?"

"'Cause you want me as much as I want you."

_An' o' course he was right. No doubt about that. Jus' th' sound o' his voice was makin' ev'rythin' on th' inside go topsy-turvy. _

_Two seconds later, his lips found mine an' Ah don' remember thinkin' anythin' aftah that..._


	6. Cells and Sketches

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, like you actually expected that Marvel had relinquished their hold on these characters. Maybe in the next lifetime.

**A/N: **Whoo-hoo! I bet y'all had to rub your eyes a couple of times, painfully pinch your own arm, and blink at the computer screen once or twice, trying to see if this would disappear or not. O ye of little faith! That's right, people! It's an actual chapter. And no, it won't vanish if you touch it. (Well, for crying out loud! Don't try to make it go away! *shooes several curious hands away*) After a year and two months, we finally have an update. Now for those of you who for some reason or another might feel the urge to do me physical harm for the horrendous delay, I offer you the plot bunnies instead. We all know they're the ones to blame anyway. ; )

Now normally I do review responses but let's face it, how many of you actually remember what you said in a review you left more than a year ago? *crickets chirp in the silence* That's what I thought. Don't worry though, all the annoying little insane comments will be back and in full swing when the next chapter rolls around... that is, assuming you all reveiw. *hint, hint, wink, wink* ; )

**CHAPTER 6  
Cells and Sketches**

Remy smiled down at the cinnamon and cream tresses that lightly rested on his right shoulder and then snaked down the length of his arm. He'd been awake for the past half hour, but hadn't moved much since that time. He didn't want to disturb the sleeping beauty that was dreaming away peacefully in his arms. She was turned toward him, head resting on his chest, and arm slung over his body like he was a giant teddy bear she couldn't help but cuddle next to. Not that he had any problem with that. He actually wouldn't have minded if she snuggled up to him for the rest of the days in his miserable and misbegotten life.

She whimpered slightly, as if she had heard the negative perception he had on his existence and was protesting the thought. He wrapped his arms around her even tighter and whispered softly to her in French. He knew she couldn't understand what he was saying, even if she had been awake, but the soothing tone and the warmth in his embrace was enough to quiet whatever had upset her.

"Shh, _petite..."_ he whispered, brushing his lips gently against her forehead. "Shhh... I'm right here."

It was a place he missed being, he realized with some surprise -- being there next to her. He hadn't been for a while; for the better part of a month, actually. College life had taken up most of her time, and while he was aware of the infinite value of a formal education, he would have much rather been with her, giving her his own brand of "teaching."

"Yoah thinkin' 'bout somethin' naughty again, ain'tcha, Cajun?"

He grinned. "You know me, _chère..._ not'in' in dis head o' mine but wholesome t'oughts."

She scoffed, turning to rest her chin on his chest so that she could look up at him. "Wholesome like last night was wholesome?" she asked.

His grin widened. How well she knew him. "Even more so," he teased. Leaning down, he touched a sweet kiss to her lips. "Sleep good?"

"Mmmmm..." was all she said as she stretched out her body like a sleepy cat, grazing her fingertips across the wood of the headboard. Relaxing again, she snuggled closer to him.

"Figured as much, since you were snorin' up a storm loud enough t'wake de other side o' de country."

"Ah do not snore!"

"Yes, you do."

"Ah don't!"

"You did."

She propped herself up on an elbow and glared down at him. "Ah did not, _Gambit." _

A smirk was tugging at the edge of his mouth, but he thought better of letting it show. She only used his work name when she was pissed, and judging from the daggers that she was throwing in his direction, she was pretty much two seconds shy of getting there.

"I'm sorry t'be de one t'break it t'you, _mignonne,_ but you do an' you did. An' since I knew you wouldn't believe me..." He reached over to the nightstand to his left, groping around until his fingers came in contact with his cell phone. "... I got myself a li'l bit o' proof."

"What, you gon' call some specialist who can verify that Ah snore when Ah sleep?"

"Good idea, but _non."_ He pushed a series of buttons on the phone until the unmistakable sound of snoring filled the silence. "Got a full thirty seconds o' you goin' at it, _chère."_ He didn't even try to hide the smirk this time.

Rogue raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You expect me ta believe that's me you've got there, swamp rat? Fo' all Ah know you recorded yoahself, or somebody else. Heck that could be a dog snorin' an' we wouldn't know!"

"Denial is an interestin' t'ing, ain't it?"

"You would know, Cajun." She smiled sweetly, patting his cheek like a child before throwing off the covers and climbing out of bed. "Better get goin', sugah, before Logan gets up."

"Kickin' me outta ya bed, now are you, _mon amour?"_

"Why, Remy, Ah think you might be jus' a li'l bit confused," she said softly, leaning down to his eyelevel, a look of pity swimming in her eyes. "Ah _always_ kick you outta mah bed. It's not mah fault that you jus' can't stay away from mah pretty face an' allurin' charms."

He captured her waist and pulled her back down to him, settling her body comfortably atop his own. The warmth emanating from her skin was causing his nerves to stand at attention, leaving a delicious tingling sensation to ripple all the way down to his toes. Her nearness had always had that effect on him.

_Okay, well maybe not 'always,'_ he thought ruefully, reminiscing about the first few years they had known each other. 'Arguing like cats and dogs' was an understatement. World War III seemed much more appropriate. They could have probably made a number-one hit reality show out of their verbal battles. All they would have needed was a camera crew and a two-bit host commenting on all the action.

"You remember dat day you started fallin' madly in love wit' me, _chère?"_

"You mean that day Ah was brainwashed an' tricked inta goin' out with you?"

He feigned a hurt look.

She rolled her eyes before she decided to play along and see where he was taking the conversation. "Yes, Ah remember."

"You 'member bein' at dat jazz club, lookin' across de room, an' t'inkin' t' yaself 'Damn! Dat _homme_ is jus' drop-dead gorgeous!'"

"Yeah, Remy, that's _exactly_ what Ah thought ta mahself," she bit out sarcastically.

He continued as if she hadn't commented. "Den you realized it was me, an' you said, 'Aah, no wonder... it's Remy.' After dat, you jus' couldn't keep ya hands off o' me. Admit it."

Rogue sighed. She should have known that was where he was taking the conversation. "You, mistah, are impossible."

"But I'm cute." He smiled to prove his point.

"Yoah annoyin'."

"Yet debonair."

"Cocky."

"But charming."

"Incorrigible."

"Irresistible..." he whispered huskily, dropping his eyes suggestively to her lips.

"Dead is what you'll be if Logan finds you here," she reminded him again. She noticed where his gaze was focused and felt the familiar thrill of excitement shoot through her system. He was only inches away from her, and getting closer by the second. Slowly... slowly...

The sharp ring of a phone broke the spell. She heard Remy curse in French under his breath.

"Ignore it," he advised, snuggling her closer so that he could begin nuzzling her neck.

"It could be important."

"More important dan me?"

"Oh, quit with th' puppy dog eyes, Cajun. You'll never be as cute as Ah am."

"I beg t'differ."

She looked down at his arms imprisoning her against him. "Mah cell ain't gon' levitate outta mah bag an' come flyin' across th' room, you know."

"Give it a minute. Maybe it's jus' warmin' itself up f'r de flight."

Smiling, she pushed against his hold, satisfied that he didn't put up any resistance this time. She crossed the room and dug into her handbag, pulling out the ringing phone.

"Hello? ... Oh hey, Pete... No, no, it's not too early..."

"Yes, it is," Remy called from the bed.

"Hush, you," Rogue scolded. "No, not you, Pete. Jus' talkin' ta th' fam'ly dog." She stuck her tongue out at Remy, who barked playfully. He rose from the bed and came up from behind to wrap his arms around her. "What was that again, Pete?"

Remy smirked. At least he knew his touch was distracting her. He kissed her bare shoulder.

"Ah'm sorry?"

_Try an' have a meaningful conversation wit' me around you, mignonne,_ he thought wickedly, skimming his hands ever so lightly across her stomach. _Be as hard as gettin' a Cajun t'hate spicy food._ His own stomach grumbled at the thought of food. He vaguely wondered if she could feel the rumbling. Her sudden giggle indicated that she did. Unless of course she was laughing at something that this Pete character had said. He scowled when he heard a succeeding chuckle escape her throat.

"No problem, sugah, don' worry about it. Ah don' mind at all... Uh-huh... Do you need me ta bring anythin'? .... Okay then. Yoah place, after lunch. Great! See ya."

"You seein' some other _homme_ behind my back, _chèrie?"_ he asked when she had ended the call. "'Cause I c'n tell you right now, you ain't gon' ever find anyone better dan me."

"So you keep tellin' me, swamp rat." She turned around in his arms, favoring him with a smile. "Jealous much?"

"_Toujours."_ He couldn't resist pulling her into another kiss, feeling her body mold itself closer to his as if by instinct. He felt her breath catch in her throat as his hands explored lower and lower down her body. "T'ink I'm gon' have t'show you jus' how jealous a guy I c'n be, _mon coeur."_

"An' how long would that take us?" She was having a difficult time focusing. Being this close to Remy never failed to throw her senses into a chaotic frenzy. If the man could bottle whatever he was using on her, he'd become a billionaire a number of times over.

"Oh, I'd say jus' 'bout de rest o' ya life..." He lightly nipped at the tip of her nose, then did the same to her lower lip. "Wan' start now?"

His mouth had found its way to her neck, and the butterfly kisses it was leaving there were slowly breaking her defenses down. "You tryin' ta tempt me, Cajun?"

"Whenever I c'n..."

"Ah can't, sugah... not t'day..." He had gradually guided her back to the bed, settling her smoothly on his lap as his mouth continued its loving worship of her skin. "Ah really can't... Ah promised Pete Ah'd help him with a project..."

Taking hold of her wrists, he lifted her arms so that they wrapped themselves around his shoulders. With gentle ease, he lowered both of them onto the mattress, enjoying the feel of her weight on top of him. "What project?" he asked quietly. Not that he actually cared. The project the two of them were currently working on was much more interesting to him. Not to mention a hell of a lot more fun.

"... jus' some project fo' a class..." His lips were tracing the curve of her collarbone. Shivers were racing down her spine in waves. "... a nude sketch fo' his art class..."

Every single muscle in Remy's body froze. Even his breath seemed to cease its rhythmic pattern. He couldn't have heard that right. He couldn't have.

"_Quoi?"_ he inquired cautiously. The untamed passion between them had just screwed up his hearing for a second or two, he reasoned. He _knew_ she didn't say what he thought she said.

The abrupt halt of both his hands and his mouth dumbfounded her. She didn't fully comprehend why all the delicious little caresses had stopped so suddenly. "_Quoi_ what?"

"What did you say?" His tone was clipped. He was trying very hard to keep his voice even.

She propped herself up. His lack of emotion or expression was bothering her. "Ah said that Ah was helpin' out mah friend Pete with a sketch fo' his art class."

"A _nude_ sketch?"

"Yeah, so?"

Remy stared at her as if she were insane for not understanding. "You ain't doin' it, Rogue. Call ya friend back an' tell him t'find someone else."

"Excuse me?!" she asked incredulously. "Ah'm gon' do what now? An' why?"

"You ain't doin' not'in'! An' ya gon' do dat not'in' wit' all ya clothes on!"

_O' all th' nerve...!_ she huffed, pushing herself roughly off of him and the bed. She began pacing a small square of carpet in an attempt to diffuse some of her anger. "Who th' hell are you ta tell me what Ah can an' cannot do, LeBeau?!"

"Who de hell am I, _chère? _I'm ya boyfriend, dat's who! An' no woman o' mine is strippin' in front o' another man."

"No woman o' yoahs? What, do you live in th' Stone Age or somethin'?" she demanded, folding her arms across her chest. "An' Ah'm not strippin'! Ah'm posin' fo' a sketch. It would be th' same thing if Ah were havin' a portrait done."

"Yeah, 'cept ya naked! What's after dis, huh? _Playboy? Penthouse?_ A spread in _FHM?"_

"Ah can't believe yoah actin' like this, Remy! It's _nothin'!_ Pete is a friend! There's nothin' sexual about it! It's completely innocent!"

He stopped and explained to her as if she were a child, "_Chère,_ dere's no such t'ing as 'innocent' when a man an' a naked woman are alone in a room t'gether. Believe me."

"Only when th' man is you!" she shot back.

Remy stood and collected his clothes from where they were haphazardly thrown on the floor. Only slightly calmer, he began to dress. "We ain't arguin' about dis anymore, Rogue. You ain't doin' it; dat's de end o' it. Dere are certain t'ings in my life dat I keep f'r my eyes only."

If she weren't so angry at his overbearing, possessive behavior, she would have thought that comment was very sweet. But since she was angry, it rolled off her like water off a duck's back. "Ah'll do what Ah damn well please, Gambit," she seethed.

And there it was, her independent nature. She hated being told what to do, and rebelled viciously whenever someone tried to force their will on her. Even Logan sometimes had a difficult time getting her to listen to reason.

Speaking of Logan... "I bet ya brother would jus' love t'hear about his baby sister's li'l art project. No doubt he'll be thrilled t'death about it."

She lost a touch of her anger. He was playing the Logan card on her. He knew that if anyone could talk her out of something it was her brother. Despite all the fights and the head butting and the sibling rivalry, there was no one on earth whose opinion she respected more than Logan's.

"You wouldn't dare," she hissed, narrowing her eyes.

"Try me, _petite."_

He was bluffing -- he had to be. There was no way he could go to Logan and tell him about the sketch without suspicion brewing of _how_ Remy knew about it. It would open the door to questions and might very well bring their secret romance to light.

He strode across the room, stopping only when he was a hair's breath away from her. "You have no idea how far I'll go to t'take care o' de t'ings dat mean somet'in' t'me, _chèrie._ You have no idea."

Before she could say anything in return, he slipped out of her bedroom window without a sound. It was several minutes before Rogue took her eyes away from the gracefully swaying curtains that he had disappeared through.

"You think you've won this, Remy LeBeau? Think again."

----

Ah, it feels so good to be writing again! I never thought I'd miss it this much. You know what else I missed? REVIEWS! ; ) I'm curious to see how many people I used to know are still around the site. Of course I wouldn't mind meeting some new people either! ; )

Well anyway, I'm off to try and update another story. Might as well do as much as I can while I'm on a roll. A big chocolate chip cookie to anyone who can guess which story it is. ; )

**H A P P Y N E W Y E A R ! ! !**


	7. Sundaes and Surprises

**Disclaimer: **I threw the disclaimer over a cliff, along with all the plot bunnies. Does it really look like I care about them? ; ) 

**A/N: **Ha! And the long, _long_ review responses are back! Hit fastforward now if you like your sanity as it is.

wildcardrose, Leishy, stryfechild, Sagistar, Ning Ning, Wishful Thinking2, Madison-Writer, Personage, Jane34, Kitsu Lebeau, TheBabyPhatPrincess -- Group hug! Thanks so much, guys! Every single review is appreciated! I'm shameless; I'd even settle for a blank review, as long as the counter went up. But a few words are all that much better! ; )

Rogue4787, ladychopsticks, Mag Carter -- Gold stars for you! It was _Madness..._ that got updated last time! You guys got crystal balls up your sleeves or something?

TheDmntdFerret -- I've seen the site and it's coming along great! I'm honored that you're archiving _Hazard_ there! Can't wait to see the finished product.

ishandahalf -- I've missed responding to your craziness the most! Let's see if I can plow through this with my insanity intact... I don't have any Remy teddy bears to give away, but would you settle for a nice fluffy plot bunny instead?... Hmm, choose between college and Remy LeBeau in your bed? I'm guessing YOU would choose Remy any day of the week and twice on Sunday? ; ) ... Trillions of gold stars? Coolness! I can make my own galaxy now! ; )

T. -- Hi! Nice to see another familiar face -- err... name around. Good point too!

Tammy -- Thanks for being persistant and leaving a review even though the site was giving you problems! Bet you it was the bunnies gnawing on the cables or something... I promise I'll try to touch on how Rogue and Remy got together a little more -- as soon as I figure it out for myself!

Mythical Blue -- A little shameless begging never hurt. ; ) Thanks for giving your take on the chapter. It really helps if I can "see" what the reader sees. That way I know I'm not screwing up too badly!

Roguechere, Slim Sheady, Gertrude-04 -- Thanks for the kind words! And for taking the time to review! Much appreciated!

Eileen Blazer -- Why're you all acting like it's such a big surprise that I've updated? Just because it was an entire _year_ since last time... ; ) Hey, nice to see you again! I've been backtracking on your _We've Met Before_ fic, so expect a review when I'm finally done. But it might be a while because it's hard to play catch-up! ; ) ... You like it when Rogue and Remy fight, huh? If you want I can have them doing that all day for you. We just have to consult the bunnies. ; ) ... Hmm, Remy posing nude for another girl? Can I volunteer to be the girl? ; )

marie -- Ummm... yes? It was my devious plan all along to make you go back and read the _entire_ story. But I protest! The bunnies, muse and disclaimer put me up to it! I'm innocent, I tell you! Call off the flying monkeys!

SLH -- Not a bad idea! Think Remy's that dramatic? We all know he's that conniving; he just might resort to something like that to get what he wants... Btw, _love_ the fact that you're updating left and right lately!

**CHAPTER 7  
Sundaes and Surprises**

_That no-good, scum-suckin', swamp-breathin'... swamp rat!_ Rogue fumed as she made her way down to the kitchen. _How dare he order me around like Ah'm some scullery maid without a lick o' sense in mah own head!_ With a violent shove, she pushed open the swinging door that stood in her way, before stomping over to the refrigerator.

She was still seething with anger as she gulped down a tall glass of orange juice. She let the liquid run its course down to her stomach before taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. Picking up her glass and the juice jug, she turned to the kitchen table in the middle of the room.

_Ah swear ta heaven, Ah would rip that boy's heart in --_

She stopped in mid-thought when her eyes settled on the young man half-crouched behind the door.

"Rogue."

"There a reason yoah sneakin' 'round our house at eight o'clock in th' mornin', Bobby?"

He straightened, bringing himself to his full height. "Uh... free food?"

Placing the jug on the table and pushing it in his direction, she turned back to the cabinet to get him a glass. "Freeloader," she quipped. It was only when they had both settled at the table that she noticed the light speckling of blood on his face. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, I don't know..." he replied flippantly. "Think a bus going a hundred miles an hour just came rushing through here, and I just happened to be standing behind the door at the time."

Rogue's expression fell. "Ah did that? Damn, Bobby, Ah'm sorry. You want me ta get you some ice or somethin'?"

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

She smiled. "Yeah, it is." She reached behind her and opened a nearby drawer, extracting a small plastic bag. Holding it open for him, she watched as he used his powers to fill it with neat little ice cubes. "Hey, we should think about throwin' ourselves ice parties like we used ta do back in high school. You remember?"

"'Cause I do. We almost got into a shitload of trouble when we were filling the football team's jockstraps with shaved ice. Now there was a pre-game surprise I bet they weren't expecting."

"Yeah, that was a good one!" She laughed. "Ah can still remember all o' 'em walkin' onta th' field with those wet patches right on th' front o' their pants! Ha! That was priceless!"

"Good thing we got it on video, huh?"

"It's too bad we didn' get th' chance ta blackmail 'em like we were plannin' to."

"Yeah, well... maybe on our ten-year reunion or something." Bobby adjusted the plastic bag pressed against his bruised nose. "So you wanna talk about whatever's bothering you?"

Her eyes shot up to his. "What're you talkin' 'bout, Bobby?"

Instead of answering her, he stood up and made his way to the refrigerator. Reaching into the freezer, he pulled out a gallon container of ice cream.

"Yoah makin' a sundae at eight o'clock in th' mornin'?"

"And your point would be?" He also came up with chocolate and strawberry syrup, and a small jar of chopped nuts for toppings. "I still stand by my belief that there is absolutely _no_ scientific proof that it's bad to eat sweets in the morning. I've been doing it for years and look how great I turned out."

"Ah wouldn't use that as yoah main sellin' point if Ah were you, sugah."

"Your support is overwhelming," he commented dryly. "Remind me to put an ad in the paper for a new best friend... Here," he slid one of the already-filled ice cream dishes towards her, "make yourself useful and start topping."

After several moments of silence, Rogue asked, "So how's th' love life comin' along?"

"No."

"No what?"

"No, we're not going to talk about _my_ personal stuff if you're not going to talk about _your_ personal stuff."

"You know, you were a lot less control-y in high school."

"No, you were a lot more bossy."

"Ah thought we agreed ta call it bein' 'strong-willed.'"

"Or pig-headed."

"Oh, now yoah jus' bein' nasty." She grinned. She'd missed spending time with Bobby, just talking. They hadn't had many opportunities since both of them entered college. The only times they got to see one another at all was in Logan's bar, and that was only on the rare occasion that both of them were present. "Feels kind o' funny, doesn't it?"

"What does?" he asked, digging into his chocolate sundae with as much enthusiasm as a four-year-old.

"Not hangin' out an' seein' each other ev'ry day. It's kind o' weird, you know?"

Bobby smirked. "It's only been a couple of years since high school. You're making us sound like a bunch of geriatric patients already. 'Sides," he said, looking at her in all seriousness, "I offered to become a permanent houseguest in that apartment of yours. You _cruelly_ turned me down... eight times."

She pelted him with a miniscule chunk of chopped nut. "It's physically impossible fo' you ta be serious, ain't it?"

"Probably." He grinned.

"An' what is yoah major again?"

"Accountancy."

"Oh yeah, yoah future bosses are goin' ta _love_ you."

"'Course they will! Who else is gonna brightened up their day, bring fun and laughter into the stuck-up corporate world -- "

" -- put ice into their hot coffee, leave whoopee cushions on their desk chairs, freeze their hair until it's brittle enough to break off into pieces..."

"Hey, I did that _once. _And the outcome was very stylish." It took a couple of moments, but Bobby was happy to see the smile tugging at the corners of his best friend's lips. It was a nice change from the seething anger that had been radiating off of her when she had first stormed into the room. "So... you wanna talk now?"

Rogue sighed. "What makes you think there's somethin' Ah need ta talk about?"

"You mean, besides the fact that you almost took my head off when you came into the kitchen?"

She looked up and met his eyes. There was nothing but genuine concern lurking behind those baby blues. Bobby had been her closest friend for a long time; she knew she could trust him with her life if it ever came to that. But it felt strange to share her relationship with Remy with anyone else _but_ Remy. As if talking about it with anyone else would make it less special... less magical.

And then there was Logan. As much as she loved her brother, as much as she respected him, and trusted him, she knew he would never approve of Remy... not for her, at least. Remy had a reputation of being a notorious player. The love-'em-an'-leave-'em type; the ultimate lady's man, leaving broken hearts and lacy unmentionables in his wake. Sure, Logan could trust him with helping to run the bar, setting up the fights, and keeping an ear out for "insider" information. But he would never, _ever_ leave his baby sister in the Cajun's hands, not without threat of death and dismemberment by six adamantium claws as a warning if any harm ever came to one hair on her head. She wondered if Remy making love to her every chance they got warranted such a punishment.

Rogue mentally shook her head. The point was that she couldn't risk letting Bobby in on her secret relationship with Remy, no matter how much she wanted to confide in her best friend. The chance that word might find its way back to Logan was not something she could risk, as slim as that possibility might be. The less people that knew about she and Remy, the better.

"There's nothin' wrong, Bobby. Jus' got up on th' wrong side o' th' bed, Ah guess."

He scoffed. "More like got up on the wrong side, fell to the floor with a thud, onto a pile of nails and thumbtacks, and then stepped on shards of broken glass on the way to the bathroom."

"Do you have ta exaggerate like that?"

"Do you have to lie like that?"

Their eyes met over the table, and Bobby _knew_ that there was something she wasn't telling him.

"Ah ain't lyin'."

"Prove it."

She raised an eyebrow at the challenge in his voice. "Yoah kiddin' me, right? You actually want ta..." Her voice trailed off.

"It's always worked before."

"It's _never_ worked before."

"That's what you think." He leaned into the table, his arms resting on the smooth wooden surface. "First one to blink or look away is hiding something."

"Good Lord, really... a starin' contest, Bobby? We ain't in high school anymore, and even then it was a bit immature."

"Never stopped us before. What's the matter... chicken?"

"Oh fo' th' love o' God..." She imitated his stance. "Ah'm only doin' this 'cause Ah've got things Ah gotta do today an' Ah'll be late fo' most o' them if Ah don' leave soon."

"So shut up and start already."

They locked gazes, blue eyes squaring off with green.

"This is ultimately stupid, you know that, don' you, sugah?"

"Stop trying to distract me. You never could fight fair."

"Fight? You call this a fight? Arm wrestlin' would be more o' a fight than this. You didn' suggest that 'cause you know Ah could whip yoah butt with mah eyes closed."

"Arm wrestling wouldn't prove that you're keeping something from me."

"An' this does?"

"Yes."

"How exactly?"

"Because you'll blink first."

"An' that will prove that Ah'm not tellin' you somethin'?"

"Yes."

"Lordy, this is pointless."

"No, it's not."

"C'mon, Bobby! Even though we don' go ta th' same school anymore, yoah still mah best friend! If there was anythin' important goin' on in mah life Ah would tell you!"

"Then how come you haven't told me that you've been sleeping with Gambit, and that the two of you have been going at it behind all of our backs for the past two years?"

Rogue blinked.

"What?"

- oOo -

"Darlin', what is this?" Logan picked up a plastic package of food from the back of their shopping cart. "'Healthy Pork Rinds'? Did they stop ta think before namin' this stuff?"

"What are you talking about? Those are the kinds you like," Ororo stated serenely, looking over the vegetable display for the best selection of carrots.

He raised an eyebrow to that statement. His name and health food were rarely in the same sentence together -- if at all. "Yer not serious, are you?"

Calmly placing a bag of carrots next to the rest of their produce, she conceded, "All right, so they aren't the kind you buy. But they are better for you, Logan."

"So's an alcohol-free liver an' smoke-free lungs, but you don' see me complain' 'bout that."

"Logan."

"Ororo."

She sighed. "You're going to have Jimmy or Frank bring you some of your brand later tonight if I don't back off now, aren't you?"

"More than likely, yeah."

She picked up the offending package and handed it to him. "I was merely thinking of your health."

"An' I 'ppreciate the thought, darlin', but what else am I gon' use this healin' factor for if not ta save me from all this shit?"

"Your logic astounds me," she deadpanned, moving down to the toiletries aisle. "Would you find a bottle of the shampoo Rogue likes?"

"Why? Kid thinks she can live on her own, she can get her own shampoo."

"We are not starting this again."

"What? Her college ain't that far away, neither is her apartment, if you think about it. She could jus' as easily live with us. Save on all kinds o' bills."

"You have been putting up this argument for three years now."

"An' still the two o' you ain't listenin' ta me."

Ororo sighed. "She's a grown women, who is perfectly capable of taking care of herself."

"Yeah, she'd like ta think that."

"Logan, enough. She is no longer a child, and even though you do not like the fact, she _has_ grown up. She has grown up very beautifully, in fact. And there is not a single doubt in my mind that she can handle herself." She marched down the aisle to pluck a shampoo bottle from the shelf. "Now either you realize that now, or I am leaving you here next to the toilet paper." Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away.

A smile snuck its way onto Logan's lips. Even annoyed she was graceful. He couldn't help but admire the gentle sway of her hips, and the way they seemed to taunt him with each alluring movement.

_You are so whipped, bub,_ he thought to himself as he followed her with their cart. Surprisingly enough, that idea didn't seem to bother him as much as he thought it would.

- oOo -

Remy took another sip of his latté. His left shoulder was beginning to cramp up from leaning against an oak tree for so long. This was taking longer than he estimated. Who would have guessed that an art student would take so long in the library? He'd always thought they would be the type to practice various styles through trial-and-error rather than bookworming through techniques.

It had taken him the better part of two hours to track down Rogue's "friend." She would have killed him of course, if she knew he'd use his underground connections to dig up information on Pete. Or rather Piotr Rasputin. A student from Russia, in his last year of college. Once Remy knew _who_ he was, it didn't take long to hack into the school's registrar and find Piotr's schedule. He had an early class at seven a.m. that morning. That had been dismissed at eight-thirty, and his next class wouldn't start until nine-fifteen. Remy's instincts told him that Piotr would spend the short forty-five-minute break in the campus library, since it was on the way to his next class. He hoped his gamble would pay off.

Movement caught his eye from across the courtyard. A tall, dark-haired young man emerged from the library's double doors. His arms were full of books and a worn backpack was flung across one shoulder. He looked around in a casual manner, taking in the fresh morning light, before descending the steps and turning left.

_Lady Luck's still got de hots f'r me,_ Remy grinned as he watched Piotr make his way towards him. Pushing himself away from his perch, Remy moved onto the sidewalk, pretending to admire the architecture of a nearby building. Just as Piotr was about to pass him, Remy took a step back and...

_"Merde!"_ he said as the impact caused both men to lose their balance. He recovered first, and began gathering up the fallen books. _"Pardonnez-moi, mon ami._ Didn' see you dere."

"No, no. It was my fault." Piotr straightened and Remy took note of how much taller the other man was. "I should have been more aware of where I was walking."

"Guess we're both a pair o' klutzes, eh, _homme?"_ Remy took a quick look at the books in his hand. _Drawing the Human Body. Portraits and Paintings. The Perfect Figure._ He frowned inwardly. Piotr was brushing up on his techniques, probably preparing for his afternoon session with Rogue. He handed the books back to Piotr. "You an art buff or somt'in'?" Remy asked, hoping he was the type to engage in a little small talk with a complete stranger.

"An art major, actually. I am in my last year of college."

"Dat's good, _mon ami._ Congratulations." He plastered on a fake smile. "I couldn't help but notice ya books dere, all about de human form. Gotta say, out o' ev'ryt'in', dose seem de most diff'cult t' me. What wit' makin' sure you've got ev'ryt'in' in proportion, all de proper muscles are visible, an' de face actually looks like a face an' not some cartoon. Hard stuff t' get down."

A slight hint of surprise colored Piotr's expression. "That is true. I, myself, find it quite difficult -- thus, the reason for all the books. I have a session after lunch, and I wish to be prepared as much as possible."

Remy felt something in his stomach take a nosedive. A session after lunch. Had Rogue done what he'd asked of her and cancelled her appointment with Piotr? Or did that mean...? "Well, good luck wit' dat. I'm sure you'll do fine. All you need is a patient model who won't move around too much while ya workin'."

"I do not think I will have much trouble there. My friend Rogue was kind enough to volunteer to be my model. It will make everything less awkward for me."

_Mon Dieu!_ "You kidden' me, _homme?_ Ain't it gon' be even _more_ weird lookin' at ya friend like that?" He gave him a sly grin. "Less de lady's more dan a friend..."

"I am sure it will all work out," Piotr returned politely. He nodded to the books he had once again piled in his arms. "Thank you again for your help. Have a nice day." With one last smile, he turned and continued on his way.

"Yeah, you too."

Remy watched him go. If the situation had been any different, he was sure he would actually like Piotr Rasputin. He seemed like a simple enough guy -- straight up, a gentleman. However, the problem was as it was, and he did not like the thought of _any_ man seeing _his_ girlfriend naked -- no matter how much of a gentleman that man seemed to be.

As he watched Piotr turn a corner, Remy slipped his hand into his pocket and extracted the other man's wallet.

_Now how did dat get in dere? _He grinned as he began to rummage through it. _Let's see... 'bout thirty bucks in change, a few IDs, library card, couple o' old art exhibit tickets, an'... what's dis?_

His fingers found a small plastic bag tucked neatly away in one of the side compartments. _Still got de receipt in here an' ev'ryt'in',_ he laughed, checking the date. A fresh purchase from the day before. Turning the bag over, he dumped its contents onto his palm.

Remy stopped.

Two small, shiny, square packets of condoms stared back at him.

_Looks like dat homme is de kind o' gentleman I don' particularly like._

--- 

I forgot to mention this at the end of the last chapter, but you all remember when Remy recorded Rogue snoring and she didn't believe it was her? Well, that's actually a true story that happened with me and my boyfriend (You know who I'm talking about, Ish: ) And to this day I still protest that it was me! ; )


	8. Silver and Sunlight

**Disclaimer: **The disclaimer is _disco_ dancing. Someone please hand me a spoon so I can gouge my own eyes out... 

Tammy, T., ness345, Rogue14, Reluctant Dragon, Kitsu Lebeau, WildRaven, Sabeybaby - As a thank you for the wonderful reviews you all left, you all will be spared the horrific sight of watching the disclaimer dance to disco. You lucky people, you... 

ishandahalf - You're blaming me for distracting you from writing! Well, I blame you! You and every other writer here on FF.N! Couldn't even find the time to sit down and write because of you people! ;) ... HAHAHA! I just can't imagine who you were referring to when you made that comment of shaving heads and then wearing a cap over it. Who on earth could you mean? ;) 

IvyZoe - Welcome to the _Madness!_ Oh wait, no... My mistake. That's a whole other story all together! ;) Thank you for taking the time to review! And no, that wasn't the end of the story. Unless... oh man, the plot bunnies didn't eat the next chapter again, did they? ;) 

EmeraldKatsEye - Yeah, Eileen's great! Thanks for trying the fic out. It means a lot since I'm enjoying your _Living Dead Girl_ story, and it's always nice to hear from authors whose work you read. Glad I was able to surprise you a little with the secret romance! 

Roguechere - Yeah, just wait a while. I'll probably throw in a number of embarrassing or stupid things that happen in my life. It's my way of laughing at myself, I guess. But hey, it sure beats paying hundreds of dollars for a therapist! ;) 

missy42 - Missy! Hope life's not crap anymore for you. If it still is, get the dragons to do something about it... You kidding me? Remy _not_ being in a chapter? Not possible. Mainly because he won't let it be possible. He threatens me with a plot bunny if I even _think_ of not putting him in! And hey hey hey! Stop pulling my ideas out of my head, you mind-reader you! And what's this about homework? _Nothing_ should come before fan fiction! Not even bathing or eating or sleeping! ;) 

Mag Carter, Goddess Evie - Just like missy42! Will you guys stop pulling ideas from my brain! I don't have that many brain cells left for that kind of thing! ;) 

wildcardrose - Well, thanks for putting words in the review! ;) As for _Hazard,_ I do have ideas on the general premis, but sadly no plans of starting it up anytime soon. I will let you guys know, though, when I do start it! 

Minnaloushe - Thanks for the wonderfully long review! I love it when new readers come in and they read the exsisting chapters as a whole, because they're the ones that get a better 'feel' of the story. Whether or not it's making any kind of sense! ;) Would you perhaps be interested in a plot bunny as a thank you? ;) 

SLH - I'm glad I was able to surprise you somehow! Lord knows from you I consider that a compliment! Thanks, btw, for also taking a crack at _Madness_ in Evo! 

Mythical Blue - Wow... uh... wow... Thanks for the analysis! Great to know that the story's coming across that well! Much obliged for the great review! 

Eileen Blazer - First off, thanks for referring this fic to EmeraldKatsEye! I feel so warm and fuzzy all over! But that may just be because of my bathrobe... hmm... ;) Am I _that_ predictable! You're like the fourth person! Grrr! 

FreakyXGoth - Eight reviews! Whoo-hoo! Multiple reviews are the best! Thank you! And as you requested, here is your update!   


**CHAPTER 8   
Silver and Sunlight**

"There's only us an' the kid livin' in that house, 'Ro," Logan said, strategically trying to position four grocery bags in his arms. "You got enough food here ta feed a third-world country." 

Ororo strolled lightly in front of him, only one paper bag weighing her down. "You're forgetting all of our guests and friends that move in and out of our home like it was their own, Logan. It's better to be prepared than have nothing at all when you need it." 

"Darlin', that's what the delivery menu on the fridge is there for." 

She glanced over her shoulder to give him a look. "That is disgusting. Do you know how much fat and cholesterol that so-called 'food' is saturated in?" 

"How else are they goin' ta get it ta taste so good?" An odd sound met his ears. Logan frowned. "Did you jus' snort?" 

"I most certainly did not." 

"Yeah, you did." 

"I did not." 

"Turn around an' tell me that then." 

She pivoted on her heel to face him. "I do not snort." 

He smirked at her. "You did, didn' you? You jus' snorted at what I said." 

She was indignant, pulling her house keys from her purse. "I _may_ have scoffed at your comment, but I most certainly did not snort." 

"You might as well confess it already, lady. I heard it with my own ears." The grin plastered on his face seemed to annoy her even more. 

"You are impossible, Logan." 

"People often mistake that for being part of his charm. Isn't that right, Logan?" a third voice interrupted. 

Both Ororo and Logan turned towards the source behind them. 

Logan cocked an eyebrow. "What the hell are you doin' here, bub?" 

- oOo -

Rogue blinked. 

A minute ticked by. 

Then she blinked again. 

She couldn't possibly have heard Bobby correctly. He couldn't have... No, it wasn't possible. They had been careful! They had been _so_ careful, the most secret of secret services wouldn't have known Remy and she had been seeing each other. Then how did Bobby...? 

Rogue blinked again. 

"How?" she asked simply. 

Bobby stood, collecting both his and Rogue's ice cream dish, and carrying them to the sink. "What, you didn't know about my direct connection to the psychic hotline?" He began washing the bowls and then placing them on the small drying rack next to the sink. 

"Bobby..." 

"Or maybe a little bird came over to me one day and started spilling the beans." He shrugged. "Course that might kind of make you wonder where a bird would get beans..." 

"Robert..." 

He turned to her. "How long have we been friends, Rogue?" 

She stopped. His expression almost looked... pained? "Ah... Ah don' know... it's been a while now..." 

"It's been seven years." 

Mentally counting back, Rogue realized that he was right. They had met the very first day of freshmen year in high school. At the time she had been walking toward the school's main entrance, minding her own business, when she happened to notice a small group of teens crowding around off to one side. It turned out to be Bobby, who had mustered up the courage to talk to one of the more popular girls from the junior class. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't known about her senior class boyfriend who had been none too happy with Bobby's "innocent" conversation. 

Though she hadn't met Bobby before that day, Rogue felt the need to try and save him. Jumping headfirst into the fray, she started going off on Bobby like the jealous girlfriend she was pretending to be. Once the senior jock of a boyfriend saw that Bobby was getting an ass-whooping far worse than what he could dish out physically, he allowed Rogue to drag Bobby off without incident. 

She smiled at the memory. She remembered how Bobby was torn between gratitude for the save and embarrassment at the fact that he had needed saving in the first place. 

"Should I be worried that you're sitting there smiling to yourself like the town idiot?" Bobby asked, snapping her out of her reverie. 

"No, Ah..." She mentally shook her head to clear it. "Ah was jus' thinkin' about high school, is all." 

"And the best friend you had all through the duration?" 

"Bobby, you don' have ta make me feel guilty about th-- " 

"Good morning," Ororo greeted pleasantly as she entered the kitchen, placing the grocery bag in her arms on the countertop. Logan followed only a few paces behind her. "We have a guest today." 

Rogue's eyebrows rose slightly. They rarely had company that stopped by earlier than four o'clock in the afternoon, much less eight-thirty in the morning. "That's a first. Who is it?" 

"You get three guesses," a deep voice from the entryway said. "But you'll probably get it in one." 

Following the sound, Rogue looked over to a tall man with skin the color of red mud. His hair was straight and dark, tied back from his face in a long ponytail ending at the middle of his back. The smile on his face was both warm and inviting. 

"Oh, my Lord -- Forge!" Rogue jumped up and threw her arms around their visitor. "Ah haven't seen you in ages! Look at you! Where have you been?" She grinned as she pulled back. 

"Around," he replied vaguely, but still managed to return her smile. "You look so much older than when I last saw you." 

"That's 'cause Ah was sixteen when you left. Lot goes on in five years. Lot o' growin' up happenin'." 

Forge grinned once again and shot a glance in Logan's direction. "I bet your brother was thrilled about that." 

The older man merely growled in response. 

"Oh, please... if Logan had his way, Ah'd be a perpetual six-year-old with mah hair up in pigtails an' a lollipop in mah mouth." 

"Least I wouldn't have to gut all the potential deadbeats poundin' down yer doorstep," her brother snapped back, retrieving a beer from the refrigerator and tossing one to Forge. He ignored the disapproving look Ororo was burning into the back of his skull. "Better fer ev'ryone all 'round." 

Forge took a seat at the kitchen table next to Rogue. "Still overprotective, I see." 

"Try smotherin', you'd be more accurate." 

"Hey, watch it, kid. I still pay yer tuition, y'know." 

Rogue stuck her tongue out at him. 

"Real mature." Logan took a swig of his beer. He leaned back against the countertop, crossing one leg in front of the other. "So why're you back in town, Forge?" 

"I'm just passing through, actually. I thought I would stop by and see how everyone was doing." 

"Well, you're welcome to stay with us for as long as you'd like," offered Ororo. She used her powers to conjure a small rain cloud and poured herself a glass of water. She rested her hand on Logan's arm before he could object to her statement. "We insist." 

"Thank you. That's very generous of you." He turned back to Rogue. "Do you still have that bracelet I gave you?" 

Bobby snorted. "You kidding? She never takes it off." 

"Ah do too!" she retorted hotly, then mumbled, "Ev'ry once in a while." 

"Yeah, like every once in _never."_

"Shut up, Bobby." She lifted her right wrist, showing Forge the slim silver band dangling there. 

Taking her hand in his, he inspected the shining metal with interest. "Hmmm... it hasn't tarnished at all?" 

Rogue shook her head. "Not a bit. Jus' like you said. Adamantium lasts fo'ever." 

"... apparently..." He gently turned her hand over to examine the other side. "The circuitry is still intact? The electrical current has never been disrupted?" 

"Ah wouldn't know 'bout that stuff, sugah. Ah jus' wear th' thing. Hasn't failed me since." 

"Interesting... Can I ask you to remove it for a moment?" 

"Sure thing." Rogue pulled a thin silver chain from beneath her shirt, and then up over her head. At the end was a small cross-shaped pendant that fit perfectly into a similar groove on the bracelet. A tiny click was heard before the bracelet snapped open, and fell from her wrist. "Too bad you couldn't make th' key out o' th' same material as th' bracelet, Forge. Ah have a hard time keepin' it from gettin' all faded an' tarnished. Have ta take it off ev'ry time Ah'm in th' shower." 

This time it was Logan who snorted. "I ain't no Donald Trump, kid. You know how much it cost ta get enough adamantium together jus' ta make that bracelet-doohickey?" 

"Maybe should've jus' chipped some off o' that skeleton o' yoahs then, huh?" She smiled sweetly in his direction. 

"You ask me, we should've stripped his bones clean years ago and made some good money off of it," Bobby jumped in. He quickly shut his mouth when Logan unsheathed the claws on his right hand. 

"Fabulous..." Forge breathed as he scrutinized the band only a few short inches from his face. "It looks almost exactly as it did when I first gave it to Rogue." 

"How wonderful it must be to admire your own invention," Ororo teased. 

Embarrassed by his overt act of vanity, Forge abruptly lowered the bracelet and cleared his throat. "Yes, well..." He turned to Rogue. "Have you been able to control your power without the suppressor?" 

"No such luck, sugah. Ah'm as dependent on it as a baby jaybird on its momma." 

"That's unfortunate. I'm sorry that I haven't been able to help more." 

Rogue shook her head fervently. "Don' even start, Forge. You've done a whole lot fo' me as it is. If it weren't fo' you, Ah would've spent th' rest o' mah life never touchin' anyone." 

"Still... You would think that a man who can create anything with his hands could come up with something to permanently control your power." 

"Th' bracelet is enough. Believe me." She smiled gratefully, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "Thank you." 

Breaking into the tender silence that followed was a loud exhaling sound, as Bobby blew his nose obnoxiously into a paper towel. 

"It's such a Kodak moment," he bawled, dabbing at nonexistent tears in the corner of his eye. "It's so precious..." He crumpled the napkin into a tight ball and dunked it into the trashcan. "And while I'd like to stay and take pictures that we can cry over in the years to come, I actually have a mundane life to get back to." He smiled crookedly and mock-saluted the occupants of the room. "See you all later!" 

"Dammit! Bobby!" Rogue cried, getting up from her chair and hurriedly collecting her things. "Ah gotta go too. So great seein' you again, Forge. Ah'll catch up with you later at th' bar." She dashed out the door. "Bye!" 

Forge shook his head in amusement. "Five years later and they still act like kids. I remember the crush Bobby had on her back then... Are they together now?" 

"Rogue's been permanently branded single by her 'loving' older brother. Perhaps you should ask him," Ororo stated. 

Logan merely growled in response, sheathing his claws and taking a swig of his beer. 

- oOo -

"Robert Drake, you stop this instant, or by God Ah'll snap those chicken legs o' yoahs in half!" 

Bobby rolled his eyes as he halted and waited for her at the side of the street. "A little louder, Rogue... I don't think the rest of the female population on the other side of the planet heard you." Under his breath, he added, "That chicken legs crack will definitely make finding the future Mrs. Drake a whole lot easier." 

"You an' me aren't finished yet." She snapped her bracelet back into place, and slipped the key/necklace securely around her neck. "If you hadn't noticed, we were havin' a conversation." 

"Really? Thought that horrific part of my life was over already." 

She ignored his sarcasm. "How do you know about me an' Remy? An' don' go gettin' all guilt trip-y on me about our bein' best friends an' all." She forced him to face her. "Jus' be straight with me, Bobby, all right?" 

"Yeah, like you've been straight with me," he mumbled, dropping his gaze to the ground. "I have a source, okay? Someone who would know what they're talking about." 

Rogue's heart seemed to skip a beat at his words. _Oh, dear Lord, please don' let it be Logan..._ she silently prayed. Though she knew in the back of her head that her brother wasn't Bobby's 'source.' If Logan knew that she'd been seeing Remy secretly for the past two years, he would have made it known, in no uncertain terms, how he'd skewer the Cajun into shish kebab and then invite the entire neighborhood for a barbeque. 

"No, it's not Logan," Bobby assured her, reading the clear expression on her face. "Remy wouldn't still be breathing if it was Logan." He started down the street, instinctively knowing she would follow suit. "Look, there's this guy I know. He's in my Dance Movement class." 

She raised an eyebrow in silent question. 

"It's an elective, okay?" he shot out in his own defense. "Trying to broaden my horizons here." 

She raised the eyebrow even higher. 

"All right, there's this really hot girl that looks smoking in a leotard and tights -- so sue me! You gonna let me finish or what?" 

Rogue shrugged her shoulders innocently. "Ah didn' say anythin', sugah." 

"Yeah, like hell you didn't," he grumbled, digging his hands into his pockets. _ "Anyway,_ a bunch of us went out for coffee after class one day and this guy was complaining about one of the neighbors in his building. Tall, lanky dude that was 'sexy as a banana split with all the nuts you could want.'" 

"Ah'm guessin' this friend o' yoahs is gay?" 

"As all get out. Then he went on and on -- for nearly fifteen minutes, mind you -- about how 'fabulously delicious' this guy was: the color of his hair, the sculpted pecs, the washboard abs, the shape of his butt..." Mild annoyance and disgust painted Bobby's features, coupled with a mock-gagging sound. "Then he mentioned the dude's red/black eyes in between gushes about 'oh so sensual' charm and a 'bedroom voice' accent. Gotta tell you, once I figured he was talking about Remy, I was pretty much ready to shoot myself." For emphasis, he lifted his thumb, index and middle finger, in the shape of a gun, to his temple and imitated the motion of firing. "I was just about to tell him that I knew the bastard he was so hung up on, when he started complaining that his new obsession wasn't even a single drop of gay. And the reason he knew this was because his Adonis and some 'bimbo with really bad white highlights have been going at it like bunnies for the past two years.'" 

He fell silent. 

"Bobby, Ah... Ah..." 

"Yeah, that was my reaction too." Bobby continued walking, one foot in front of the other, keeping his eyes on the steady movement. "Imagine being told by a guy you hardly know that your best friend of seven years is screwing around with a guy you thought was her mortal enemy. A guy that, for the past five years, has been nothing but a thorn in her side... supposedly. But turns out was actually the guy who she was 'getting it on with' for the past two years. Imagine that." 

Rogue couldn't bring herself to look at Bobby's face. She didn't want to see the expression of hurt and disappointment that was no doubt mirroring the emotions she heard in his voice. She didn't want to have the physical proof of _seeing_ what she knew she had caused. 

"Ah don' know what ta say, Bobby," she whispered, tentatively slipping her hand into his, waiting to see if he would reject her touch. He didn't pull away. But then again, he didn't return her gesture either. He simply let his hand rest in hers. "Ah'm sorry. Ah was jus' scared that Logan might find out, an'... an'..." She sighed. "Ah should have trusted you, Ah know. Ah don' have any excuses that would make ev'rythin' all right again. Jus' an explanation that Ah was scared..." 

"That's what a best friend is for, you know. To be there for you when you feel like the rest of the world won't." 

"Ah know. An' Ah'm sorry." 

"Kind of feels like we aren't as close as we used to be." 

"We still are. Yoah still mah best friend. Ah jus' screwed up this one time. Ah'll do better, Ah promise." 

"And you'll make it up to me?" he asked hopefully, finally meeting her gaze. 

"Definitely." 

"We'll get together more often and do stuff like we used to?" 

"Sure." 

"You'll take your clothes off and walk around naked while in my presence?" 

"Bobby!" She smacked him upside the head. 

"What!" he demanded innocently, raising his arms in question. "You can't blame a guy for trying! Who knows, you just might feel guilty enough to do it!" 

"You are such a dork!" She smiled playfully, grabbing his arm and pulling him close to her, forcing him to follow her down the street. "C'mon, you anti-Casanova. You can walk me to my first errand of the day." 

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am." 

- oOo -

_Now I knew how mannequins felt like. _

I rubbed one o' de many weary muscles in my arm while rotatin' my shoulder clockwise t' get some feelin' back inta it. T'ink I'd been stakin' out Piotr's buildin' f'r more dan four hours already like some lovesick puppy -- which I was not. Or some deranged stalker -- which I wasn't either. I was jus' a concerned boyfriend who was lookin' out f'r de woman he loved... who jus' happened t' have a full deck o' chargeable cards in his pocket t' rearrange someone's face wit' if it came t' dat. 

I checked my watch. A quarter past two. How long after lunch was Rogue's 'after lunch' appointment? I could be here all night f'r all dat girl cared about keepin' up wit' her schedule. You would t'ink dat she had de courtesy t' show up already so dat I could storm in an' bash dat punk's face in. 

I, o' course, was ignorin' de fact dat de 'punk' in question was a good five inches taller dan me, an' had about a hundred pounds advantage. Conveniently ignorin' dat fact, most definitely. 

Sudden tinglin' sensation in de vicinity o' my pants got my attention. An' no, a mental picture o' Rogue in de shower did not jus' pop inta my head, thus causin' a whole diff'rent kind o' tinglin' sensation. But since I was t'inkin' about it... I smirked. Damn, dat girl looked good... 

Shook de image out o' my mind, sad as I was t' see it go. Remembered de original tinglin' sensation. Pulled out my cell phone. It was vibratin' like a jackrabbit wit' cayenne pepper up its behind. 

"Allo?" 

"Gumbo." 

_Logan. "Oui?"_

"One o' the boys got a tip from downtown. Vic's up ta somethin'. Check it out, will ya?" 

_Merde._ "Get de boys t' go. I'm in de middle o' somet'in'." 

"Boys have got their hands full. What's so friggin' important you can't let drop till later?" 

_Oh, I don' know, Logan... jus' keepin' an eye on ya baby sister -- my lover, by de way -- an' makin' sure she keeps her clothes on 'stead o' posin' nude like some playboy bunny in a centerfold._

"It's the middle o' the afternoon, Cajun. Yer panty raid can wait. Get downtown now." 

_Sigh. De joy o' talkin' t' Logan. Not even an au revoir. _

I slipped my cell back inta my pocket, checkin' up an' down de street. Still no Rogue. Should buy dat girl a watch f'r her next birthday. 

No gettin' out o' it. Duty calls. 

Behave yaself, chèrie. I'll be back. 

- oOo -

_Ah am so late,_ Rogue thought frantically as she rushed up the last flight of stairs to Peter's apartment. She wasted no time in knocking on the door, and then trying to make herself look half decent as she waited. 

_Knew Ah shouldn't have let Bobby talk me inta orderin' another round o' chicken fingers. No good could have come from that. Ah don' care how lip-lickin' delicious that garlic mayonnaise dip was..._

She smiled, combing her hand messily through her hair in a futile attempt to eject style into her tresses. Spending the morning with Bobby had felt great, like finding a long-lost relative again. They had even made plans to hang out later in the week, though they knew they'd be seeing each other that evening in Logan's bar. At least they were reconnecting, which was the important thing. 

She looked up when she heard the click of the door's lock releasing. "Hey, Pete," she greeted, showering her friend with an apologetic grin. "Ah am _so_ sorry Ah'm late, sugah. Ta be honest with you, Ah got no excuse. So Ah brought you a peace offerin' instead." She thrust a white paper bag into his hands, before trooping into the apartment. 

He grinned at her frankness, closing the door behind her and taking a peak into the gift. _"Spasiba._ What is it?" 

"Only _the_ best chicken you've ever tasted outside th' great state o' Mississippi!" Twirling around slowly, arms outstretched, she surveyed the flat and breathed a low whistle. "This is some place, Petey. You part o' th' mob or somethin'?" 

Chuckling, he shook his head. He placed the chicken on a small table in the kitchen before answering. "I'm subletting from a gentleman who is interning in Paris for a year. This is his décor, not mine." 

"Still..." she said, running her fingers down the length of a beautifully carved end table next to the sofa. "Pretty good racket you got goin' here. Ah bet this joint impresses a lot o' ladies, right?" She teased him with a knowing smile, and if she hadn't known any better she would have sworn that comment brought a blush to his cheeks. "Ah'm guessin' you still haven't brought Kitty here then." 

"She has been here, yes." 

"But nothin' has happened...?" she guessed when he seemed reluctant to continue. 

"There have been some... things." 

She tried to rein in her grin at Peter's shy manner. "So what base are we talkin' here?" 

His eyes looked to her in confusion. "Base?" 

"Baseball," she clarified, giving him her full attention. "You know, first, second, third base, home?" At his blank stare, she said, "Okay, not a baseball fan... Shortcut version then. First base: holdin' hands, peck on th' cheek. Second base: Frenchin', mild pettin'. Third base: _really_ heavy pettin', possibly discardin' o' clothin'. An' home is... well, th' big bang." 

"How romantic." 

"Isn't it?" she agreed with a sarcastic smile. 

Peter sighed. "I suppose that would place Kitty and I at third base." 

"Congratulations." 

"Thank you. Though..." 

"Candlelight, soft music, an' a table fo' two set up right over there," she instructed immediately, pointing to the northwestern corner of the apartment where two large windows were allowing most of the afternoon sun to spill through. 

He folded his arms across his chest. "You have spoken to Kitty about this, haven't you?" 

"Little bit. You might want ta sprinkle rose petals on th' floor too. That's always a nice touch." 

"Is there nothing that you two do not share?" 

She shook her head unabashedly. "Nope. Oh wait, yeah... Ah draw th' line at sharin' underwear. That's jus' unsanitary." 

"Are you finished?" 

"Hardly. Ah got th' number o' a really good florist..." She fished into her bag for a moment, pulling out a calling card. "Look fo' Patrick. He'll take care o' you." She straightened. "Now. How much do you know about cookin'?" 

"Stop," he commanded, though Rogue could still see the twinkle in his eyes. "You and Kitty need to stop meddling into my love life." 

"Oh, Ah'm not meddlin' in yoahs, sugah. Ah'm meddlin' inta Kitty's." 

He cocked an eyebrow at her, wondering if there was a difference. Deciding he was better off not knowing, he gestured to the area that he had set up for the original intent of their meeting. Arranged in the corner Rogue had mentioned earlier were folds and folds of a soft pink cotton fabric, draped over a fairly large ottoman. The light poured in from the windows like a natural spotlight, bathing the area in a warm glow. 

"So where do Ah change?" 

--- 

Oh boy, this fic is getting a lot longer than I originally thought it was going to be! When the plot bunnies get inspired, they really get inspired! Why can't they ever decide to get inspired in the Carribean or the Bahamas? Weird little fluff butts... 


	9. Crash and Burn

**Disclaimer: **Mine! Mine! All mine! ... Okay, maybe not... ;) 

**A/N: **It's been a while... a _really_ long while. I have no excuse whatsoever, but I blame everything nevertheless on real life. And the plot bunnies (Everything is their fault anyway...)

I really missed writing, and I hope I get more opportunities to do it. Hopefully. Plot bunnies willing... ;)

**CHAPTER 9  
Crash and Burn**

"Are you sure about this, Sam?" Paige Guthrie whispered to her older brother as they approached the side entrance of the building. "Ah mean, we don' even know these people. What if they're like...?"

Her question trailed off, but Sam knew exactly what she was thinking. The rest of their family had been murdered at the hands of a notorious loan shark and his gang. It wasn't easy for them to trust _anyone_ anymore.

"Ah think it'll be okay, Paige. Ah got this feelin' about Mr. Logan. He's one o' the good guys."

He raised a hand to press the security button on the side of the large steel door they had stopped in front of. It let out a sharp buzz.

A few moments later, a voice answered, "Yeah?"

"Mr. Logan? It's Sam Guthrie."

"Hey, kid. Jus' a sec, I'll buzz you in."

They heard the distinct click of the door unlocking, and Sam reached forward to pull it open for them.

"This ain't definite yet, right, Sam?" asked Paige as they stepped over the threshold. "We can still say no if Ah don' like it here?"

"Ah told Mr. Logan that Ah would run it by you first. If you ain't comfo'table here, we don' have ta stay. Ah jus' think we should consider his offer, is all. Our apartment on Fisher Street ain't exactly the best place ta live fo' a kid like you."

Paige crossed her arms over her chest. "Sam, Ah hate it when you talk like that. Ah ain't a kid anymore, an' you know it!"

"That's tellin' him, darlin'," Logan smirked as he turned a corner to greet them in the foyer. "Don' hold anythin' back."

Sam straightened and threw an apologetic look at the older man. "Ah'm sorry about that, sir. Our momma would have a heart attack if she heard 'bout us fightin' in someone else's house." He cleared his throat. "This is my sister Paige. Paige, this is mah boss, Mr. Logan."

An eyebrow quirked at the 'mister' part added to his name. "Jus' 'Logan' is fine, kid." He stretched out his hand towards Paige. "Nice ta meet you, darlin'."

Paige accepted his handshake. "Thank you fo' invitin' us, sir. It's very kind o' you," she said politely.

"No sweat. C'mon, I'll give you the tour." Logan turned and walked out of the foyer. "Off ta the left here is the kitchen. Feel free ta grab anythin' outta the fridge. 'Ro usually keeps it stocked pretty well." He pointed to a door at the farthest end of the hall. "That leads inta the bar. Shortcut fer you when you've got a fight."

Sam nodded as they followed him through the rest of the house.

Logan gestured to two closed doors nearest to the bar entrance. "The first room there is the office. Second is mine an' 'Ro's room." He continued down the opposite hall, pointing as they went. "Livin' room on the right, bathroom next ta it." With each room mentioned, Logan would stop for a few seconds so they could peak in. "We've got two guestrooms, but one's bein' used at the moment by Forge. Sam's got the other one, so 'Ro converted the family room inta a room fer Paige. She figured you'd want the one next ta the bathroom." He turned to Sam and shrugged. "Somethin' 'bout women stuff."

Paige took a tentative step towards the opened doorway that Logan said was her room. Bright sunshine forced its way in from the only light source present, a large overhead skylight. The walls were a soft blue-green color that matched the sofa set pushed to the far corner. A simple twin-sized bed had been placed in the opposite corner, and although it looked out of place with the rest of the room's dècor, it was infinitely better than the beaten-down mattress she had in their apartment.

"It's pretty," she said, turning back to their host.

A grunt escaped Logan's lips before he motioned to the last room at the end of the hall. "That there's my kid sister's room. She's got her own place downtown, but we keep it fer when she wants ta crash." He stepped over and opened the door. Almost immediately he took a step back, waving a hand in front of his face and nearly doubling over from the scent that assaulted his senses.

Paige took a tentative whiff. "It's jasmine," she stated, smiling slightly. "It smells nice."

"Yeah well, try sniffing that stuff when you've got a hyper-sensitive sense o' smell, darlin'."

"Perhaps you shouldn't open doors without knocking then," a firm, cultured voice scolded from behind them. Ororo stood with her hands on her hips and a disapproving look washing over her features. Logan could tell, however, from the twinkle dancing in her eyes that she didn't mean it... much. "If Rogue had been home, no doubt the two of you would be going for each others' throats again."

Logan smirked. "Prob'ly. 'Ro, this is Sam an' his sister Paige."

Ororo smiled welcomingly at the siblings before turning back to Logan. "Remy is on the phone. He says he couldn't get through to your cell phone."

"Makes me wonder if Gumbo even knows how ta use a cell phone. Unless he's speed-diallin' one o' his broads, he's at a loss. 'Scuse me."

When Logan had disappeared down the hall, Ororo gestured to the newly converted family room. "I see Logan's shown you your room, Paige. I apologize for the lack of windows. This was originally a warehouse and then an office building. It was never supposed to be a residence."

"No, it's great," Sam interjected. "You have a lovely home."

Ororo smiled. Then, noticing their lack of luggage, she inquired, "Will you be staying with us then?"

Sam threw a questioning look at Paige, who took another look at her new bedroom. It really was pretty. She hoped that their instincts about these people were correct.

"Yes, thank you. Ah think we will stay."

- oOo -

Remy slid into the chair across from Logan at the bar's back table. It had taken him a little longer than usual to return, at Logan's request. He had made a stop at Peter's apartment, but found that both Rogue and the other man were not there. He was still convincing himself that was a good thing, but for some reason he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it wasn't.

He took a drag from his cigarette before speaking. "Looks like you were right, _mon ami._ Creed's got somet'in' goin' on."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "An' none o' yer sources could've told you what exactly that somethin' is?"

"Got a couple o' them checkin' it out now. From de sounds o' t'ings it doesn't have anyt'in' t' do wit' de fights he's got lined up at his bar."

That was definitely something that peaked Logan's interest. Both he and Creed had established their respective fighting rings within a few months of each other. A natural sense of competitiveness erupted as a result, as well as a none-too-friendly rivalry between the two owners.

"You sayin' Creed's workin' somethin' other than competin' with us?"

"One o' de sources is tellin' me dat he's dealin'."

"Drugs?"

"Drugs, guns, women... My bet would be all o' de above."

"That ain't somethin' we're gettin' inta, Gumbo. We ain't competitin' that way."

Remy shook his head. _"Non,_ I know. But pretty soon Creed's gon' have a one-stop play shop downtown. He's gon' be like Wal-Mart before you know it."

The Cajun had a point. Grabbing his beer bottle by the neck, Logan took a hefty swig. Creed always did play dirty, but this was an all-new level. If he got gambling, booze, arms, narcotics, _and_ prostitution all under one roof, he'd draw most of their customers away.

"Damn you, Creed," he said under his breath.

The sound of the back door opening caused both men to turn. Ororo smiled as she passed through the threshold and stepped into the bar.

"You are starting early this afternoon, I see," she said, coming to stand behind Logan and resting her hands on his shoulders. "Hello, Remy. I don't believe I've ever seen you awake before the sun sets."

Remy leaned back in his chair and smirked. "First time f'r ev'ryt'in', 'Ro."

Turning back to address Logan, she said, "Sam and Paige have agreed to stay with us. They went back to their apartment to collect their things. I will take the car and pick them up." She leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I will see you later."

"Sure thing, darlin'."

As she began to walk past him, Remy spoke up. "What, no kiss _por moi, chèrie?_ I am beyond hurt."

"Feel free to try something, Remy, and you will be beyond dead." She smiled to show that she did not mean the words. "Goodbye, my incorrigible friend."

As soon as Ororo had left, Logan focused back on Remy. "We're gonna need some kind o' proof that Creed's gettin' his hands in some dirty shit. We can take it ta the cops, an' get Vic outta our hair fer a while."

This time it was Remy's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Are you askin' me t' steal f'r you again, _homme?"_

"You got a problem with that, Gumbo?"

The younger man grinned. _"Non,_ jus' wanna be clear."

- oOo -

"You're not even going to let me see?" Bobby demanded, as he rapidly surfed through television channels. "Not even one tiny peak?"

"Again, th' words 'yeah' an' 'right' come ta mind."

"As in, 'Yeah right, sure, Bobby. Yoah mah bestest friend in th' whole world! O' course Ah'll let you see th' naked picture Ah jus' did. Ah need yoah opinion on it.'"

Rogue made a face at his impression of her southern accent. "A Scarlett O'Hara you _will not_ make, Yankee."

"'Course not. I don't have the overflowing red dress and matching pumps to go with it. But just you wait until Bloomingdale's goes on sale again."

Bobby caught a throw pillow square in the face.

"Be thankful Ah ain't suffocatin' you right this minute."

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

"An' slow down with all th' channel-hoppin'. Yoah gonna break mah TV."

"Am not." Bobby shifted his position on her couch. They had spent most of the day together catching up, and had eventually decided to crash at Rogue's apartment for what was originally a planned movie marathon. "It's not _my_ fault you busted your DVD player."

Another throw pillow found its way to his face. "Yoah th' one who broke it, Drake! Even a four-year-old knows yoah not s'pposed ta jam th' disc tray in that hard!"

"The player was egging me to do it! It was taunting me!"

Rogue smirked. "Yes, Ah've heard that inanimate objects have a tendency ta do that."

"Yeah well, you weren't there," he huffed, folding his arms across his chest. "You were off no doubt admiring the drawing that you won't let me see."

"Ah was not." She reached over and took a handful of popcorn from the bowl set on top of the coffee table. "Ah don' even have it."

"Who does?" Bobby scoffed. "Remy?"

This time she slapped him on the arm.

"Ow!"

"Serves you right."

He rubbed the sore spot, and frowned slightly. "You still haven't told him that you went through with it, have you?"

"How can Ah? Ah haven't talked ta him since this mornin'."

"Why don't you just call him?"

"An' say what? 'Hey, Remy, how's it goin'? Oh by th' way, that thing you weren't all that keen on me doin'? Well, Ah went ahead an' did it anyway.'"

"'... and now another guy is jacking off to my centerfold.'"

She slapped him again on the arm. "You got a death wish or somethin'?"

"Or something." He grinned impishly before his face fell solemn again. "Seriously though, Rogue, why did you do it if you knew that Remy wasn't comfortable with it?"

She sighed, and turned back to the late-night infomercial that Bobby had randomly landed on in his program search. "Ah don' know... It's not that Ah want ta pick a fight with him. Ah guess Ah don' like bein' told what ta do. This ain't th' fifties, an' Ah ain't his dutiful li'l woman."

"Well, we can get you a Donna Reed apron at the Bloomingdale's sale we're waiting for." He caught Rogue's eyes and hoped that the playful mischief in his own would catch on.

She threw yet another pillow at him, and smiled. "Yoah brain dead, Drake." She stood and started to pull Bobby out of his seat. "Come on, let's go on a munchie run. Ah'm in th' mood fo' some ice cream."

"To lick off my naked body?" he asked, hopefully.

Rogue grabbed her keys and made her way to the door. "Ah'll strap yoah 'naked body' ta th' hood o' th' car if you don' get yoah rear in gear."

"Ooh, kinky..."

- oOo -

Logan stood and tried to knead out the kinks that had worked their way into his neck and shoulders. He had been strategizing with Remy for the past two hours, and had barely looked up in that time.

"How long before you think we can get everythin' we need?" he asked.

"I'd say 'bout a week or so, if we don' run inta any problems."

"Get the boys ta help you out, if you need it." Logan could tell that the other man was about to object. "I don' want ta hear it, Cajun. I know you think the sun rises an' falls by yer own ass, but even you could use a couple o' wingmen ev'ry now an' then. Speakin' o' which," he said, as he saw Frank making his way through the already crowding bar. "Hey, Frankie, yer jus' in time. I want you ta help Gumbo here with somethin'."

"Logan..."

He looked up, and for the first time he could see the worry that had settled in the raven-haired man's eyes. His senses instantly awoke and stood at alert.

"What is it?" he practically growled.

"There's been an accident..."


	10. Secrets and Sacrifice

**Disclaimer: **The disclaimer is trying to entice the plot bunnies to walk under the mistletoe with him. It's really sad, actually...

H A P P Y

H O L I D A Y S !!! ;)

**CHAPTER 10  
Secrets and Sacrifice **

_"Get the hell outta my way!"_ Logan roared at the helpless teen that blocked his thunderous trek down the hospital corridor.

Startled and more than a little terrified, the teenaged boy tried to maneuver his wheelchair out of Logan's path and into the safety of the sidelines. Onlookers turned to stare at the commotion. They saw a trio of men racing towards the end of the hall, a mixture of fear and worry painted on their features.

Bursting into the Emergency Room, Logan grabbed the first person he saw wearing scrubs. She was a small brunette woman that barely reached the top of his chin. She matched his feral glare with one of her own, obviously not appreciating being manhandled in that fashion.

"Ororo Monroe," he barked, gripping the nurse's upper arms tightly. "Where is she?!"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm -- "

"I'll calm down when you start tellin' me what I want ta know!" Logan flexed his right hand, ready to unleash his claws as an intimidation tactic.

Remy jumped into the fray, recognizing the look in Logan's eyes for what it was. "Maybe," he said, squeezing himself in between his infuriated friend and the woman, "de _mademoiselle_ is right, _mon ami._ Maybe you should calm down a bit."

"Stay out o' this, Cajun, before I slice yer guts out."

"You pop dem claws out here, _homme,_ in a _hospital,_ dey ain't never gonna let us see 'Ro." Remy could see that his words were sinking into Logan's thought process, however slow. He felt the other man back down slightly. Remy turned to address the nurse behind him. "We're lookin' f'r Ororo Munroe. We were told dat she was in a car accident."

"Are you family?"

"I'm her fiancé," Logan snapped impatiently.

She nodded, apparently used to hot-temped relatives. "I'll check her status at the nurse's station. It'll only take a minute."

_"Merci, chère._ 'Ppreciate it." Remy watched her walk off before addressing his friend. "Fiancé?"

"Got her ta tell us where she was, didn' I? Under the circumstances I'm sure 'Ro wouldn't mind. Frankie," Logan called to the other man that was with them. "Did you talk ta Stripes?"

"Her cell was off, but I left a message on her machine. Told her what happened."

Logan nodded, as the nurse returned with a patient chart in her hand.

"She came in a little over an hour ago. They stabilized her condition enough to rush her into surgery. She's on the fourth floor right now, surgical wing."

The words had barely left her lips before the trio had shot off in the direction of the elevators.

Logan couldn't believe how ridiculously slow the elevator appeared to be ascending. It felt like an eternity ticking by as he watched the lighted numbers flash from floor to floor. If he were honest enough with himself, he would admit that he was more than a little frightened. Still, at that moment, he preferred the warm comfort of a lie.

_'Ro's fine,_ he thought to himself. _She's a fighter -- always has been. She's fine._

As soon as the elevator doors opened, they stepped off and immediately spotted Sam and Paige in the waiting area.

"Sam," Logan called, as they neared the pair. "What the hell happened?!"

The younger man shot to his feet as soon as he recognized Logan. His t-shirt was covered with dirt and sweat, and there was a bandage on his left hand.

"M-Mr. Logan, Ah'm sor-- "

"What happened?!" Logan demanded briskly.

"It was a drunk driver," Paige piped up from her seat next to Sam. Her blonde ponytail was messily coming out of its confines, and her clothes were also streaked with dirt. "Ms. Ororo came ta pick us up an'... a truck came out o' nowhere."

Sam nodded. "We were loadin' the car an' we heard tires squealin'. Before we knew it, Ms. Ororo shoved us out o' the way." He looked down, as if ashamed. "Everythin' happened so fast. When we looked up, Ms. Ororo was pinned between her car an' the pick-up truck."

Paige let out a sob, and Sam settled back down into his seat to console her. "She was still awake!" Paige wailed. "She was askin' if Sam an' me were okay. Ah-Ah don' think she really understood what had happened..."

"Logan!" a voice nearly screamed from behind them.

They turned and saw Rogue racing down the hall towards them, Bobby not too far behind.

"Where is she?! Ah want ta see her!" She was about to charge through the double doors that stated 'No Visitors Beyond This Point' when Logan looped an arm around her waist to pull her back. "Let me go!"

"Easy, darlin'... easy," her brother cooed in her ear. "She's in surgery right now. We can't see her."

To anyone else, it would have seemed strange to witness Logan's sudden change in demeanor. Not even two minutes before, he had been ready to tear the hospital apart, needle by needle, but as soon as his baby sister needed him, he was automatically transformed into a strong, authority figure.

"What happened?" Rogue asked, echoing her brother's earlier question. "Frankie's message said she was in a car accident..." As the details were relayed to her, more and more worry and fear crept onto her features. "Is she gonna be okay?" she whispered.

Logan smoothed a hand over her cinnamon tresses. "We don' know yet, darlin'. We're jus' gon' have ta wait."

"The nurse told us that it might be a while," informed Paige. "Ms. Ororo jus' went inta surgery about an hour ago."

Frank put a hand on Logan's shoulder, causing the older man to turn slightly. "I'll run down to the cafeteria and get us all some coffee."

Logan nodded, and then gently steered Rogue into a seat opposite Sam and Paige. Remy settled down onto a chair not too far away.

"'Ro's a fighter. She's gonna be fine," Logan stated, wishing that putting his earlier thoughts into words would somehow make them come true.

- oOo -

"Are you the family of Ororo Munroe?"

Rogue rubbed the last remnants of sleep from her eyes and looked up at the strong voice that had spoken. Her gaze met with a seasoned man wearing green scrubs and a loosened face mask around his neck. She tried to gauge the expression he wore, but for the life of her couldn't determine if the news he was about to deliver was either good or bad. The doctor's demeanor did nothing to appease the lump that had been lodged in her throat for the past five hours.

"Yeah, we are," her brother answered for them, rising from his seat beside her.

"My name is Doctor Reynolds. I'm the surgeon in charge of Ms. Munroe's case."

Logan stepped forward to shake hands. "How is she, doc?"

Dr. Reynolds looked worn and tired as he removed the medical cap from atop his head. "We were able to stabilize her condition." He was quick to interrupt the sighs of relief that had broken throughout the room. "She's not out of the woods yet," he stated. "There's extensive damage to her spine and nervous system, and a number of her other vital organs were affected as well: her heart, liver and kidney. Our biggest concern at this point is any possible neurological damage that she may have sustained, but there is no way for us to know that until she regains consciousness."

Rogue paled at the news. "Do y'all have any idea when that'll be?" she asked quietly.

Dr. Reynolds turned to face her. "No, I'm sorry we don't." For a moment, he lowered his gaze. "I'm afraid she's in a coma."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

"I don't want you to lose hope," the doctor continued. "She's doing well -- "

"What are you not telling us, doc?" Logan interrupted. "Don' sugarcoat it fer us. Jus' hit us with the truth."

Dr. Reynolds recognized the no-nonsense attitude in the other man, and sighed. Relaying bad news to family members had always been a difficult task. It was a delicate mixture of sustaining their hope while still keeping them grounded with the ugliness of reality.

"At the moment, her chances are not that great," he answered honestly. "Because of the coma, we can't accurately gauge the full extent of her injuries. Right now she's in the ICU, and we're monitoring her closely. If she pulls through the night, we have better hopes for her recovery."

Logan looked him square in the face. "Are we talkin' fifty-fifty here?"

Dr. Reynolds sighed once again. "More like thirty-seventy." He looked defeated. "I'm sorry. I wish I had something better to tell you."

"Can we see her?" asked Rogue, rising to her feet.

He nodded. "The ICU will only let one person in at a time, and I'm sorry but I can only allow one or two of you to visit with her tonight. Allowing her to heal is the top priority right now. We'll keep you posted on her progress."

"Thanks, doc," Logan said, before Dr. Reynolds turned to walk away. A small sob escaped from Rogue's lips, and he wrapped his arms around her frame. "It'll be okay, darlin'. She'll pull through."

"You don' know that, Logan!" she cried into his shoulder. "You heard what th' doctor said! She's hurt bad!"

"'Ro's a tough chick," Bobby piped in. "If anyone can get through this, she can."

Rogue lifted her head. "Logan..."

"No," he answered, without the need to look at her or even ask her to complete her thought.

"But -- "

"No." His voice was stern and definite.

"Ah can help."

"I said no."

She pushed away from him. "Yoah gonna let her die? When Ah can do somethin' about it?!"

"She ain't gonna die."

"You don' know that!"

"Sam, what's goin' on?" Paige whispered to her brother. "What're they fightin' about?"

Before Sam could answer, Rogue threw out, "Ah can help save 'Ro."

"No, you can't." Logan's voice held firm.

Remy looked from one sibling to the other. "What're you talkin' 'bout, _chère?_ How can you help 'Ro?"

Rogue could clearly see the unyielding 'no' lurking in Logan's eyes. She knew it would take a lot to persuade him to allow her to help. Ororo meant the world to her brother -- to both of them, actually -- and Rogue knew that there wasn't a better reason they could find than that.

She took a shaky breath. "Ah can transfer Logan's healin' factor inta Ororo."

_"Quoi?"_ Remy asked. "You can what...?"

"Ah can absorb Logan's power, an' then transfer it inta 'Ro ta help her heal."

"Yer power doesn't work that way," interjected Logan. "That was jus' an idea you got when you were a kid, but you can't actually _do_ it."

"Ah can try!"

"The last time you tried, you almost _died!"_ Logan barked, the topic finally getting under his skin. "I said no, Rogue, an' I meant it." He turned on his heel. "I'll be in the ICU."

Rogue watched her brother walk down the corridor and then turn the corner. _O' all th' stubborn-ass things --_ she fumed.

She _could_ help Ororo. She knew she could. The last time she had tried to transfer powers had been when she was fourteen years old. Seven years had passed since then, and she had a better understanding of how her powers worked. She was confident that she could do it. She _had_ to do it. The alternative was not an option she was willing to consider.

- oOo -

"A lot of friends and family believe that the patients can still hear them, even when they're sleeping like this," the nurse informed Logan, as she straightened the sheets around Ororo. She delicately avoided the word 'coma' in the hopes that her patient's visitor wouldn't lose faith. "You might want to talk to her like you usually would. It helps."

Logan nodded stiffly and mumbled, "Thanks." He watched silently as the nurse continued to fix the tubes and wires that were connected to Ororo. She scribbled one final note onto the metallic chart and then left the room.

He hated hospitals; never really had any need of them actually. His healing factor had always taken care of any scrapes or pains that normally would have needed medical attention. There was just something about the sterile scent of alcohol and death that sent chills up his spine.

_Fer 'Ro,_ he thought, as he pushed the uncomfortable feeling to the recesses of his mind.

He trailed a hand over the top sheet that covered three-fourths of the bed. The texture was soft and woolen underneath his fingertips. He tried to concentrate on that sensation, rather than the painful pressure that was currently pushing on his heart.

"Yer gonna be fine, darlin'," he whispered, finally focusing his gaze to the head of the bed.

Her eyes were closed, and she looked like she was simply resting. He wanted to kiss the spot just below her ear, the spot he had found where she was very ticklish, and wake her up. He wanted to see her bright blue eyes staring up at him. Maybe see them fade into silver as she used her power to get back at him for waking her up so cheekily.

"You gotta wake up fer me, 'Ro." He leaned down to stroke her hair. "You gotta prove me right, babe. Don' you make a liar outta me, you hear? I've been tellin' all o' 'em out there that yer gonna be fine. You know how I hate bein' wrong 'bout things.

"The kid... she's really worried 'bout you. She's gettin' all kinds o' ideas in her head 'bout her transferrin' my power ta you, ta get you healed. You an' me both know she can't do that. You gotta wake up an' tell her how nuts she is fer even thinkin' that shit."

He leaned down further to rest his forehead against hers. "You gotta pull outta this, Ororo... please."

- oOo -

Remy pushed open the rooftop door and let the cool air assault him. It was a welcome jolt, stronger than the weak coffee Frank had been sold at the cafeteria. He closed his eyes and let the night sounds wash over him.

His head jerked slightly to the left, as his ears picked up the soft scuffing he had been looking for. He moved in that direction until he came across the source.

"Been out here by ya lonesome f'r a while now, _chèrie._ Was gettin' worried 'bout you."

Rogue turned, and Remy could see the anxiety etched clearly on her face. "How'd you find me?"

"Not many places you can hide beautiful t'ings from a t'ief, you know." He came up behind her and wrapped the trench coat he was wearing snuggly around both of them. "I'm here f'r you, _mignonne._ Anyt'in' you need."

"Ah need you ta talk ta Logan fo' me. Convince him that it's 'Ro's best chance o' gettin' better."

He paused, uncertain. "Can you really do dat, though? Can you really absorb Logan's healin' factor an' give it t' 'Ro?"

"Yes," she said confidently. If she could just get Remy to believe, he could help her persuade Logan. She knew he could. She turned in his arms and looked up at him. "Please, Remy... Ah know you an' me have been fightin' lately -- "

"Shh, _chèrie,_ dat don' matter now."

"Ah don' want 'Ro ta die, Remy." Her voice sounded so small to him. "Ah don' want her ta die..."

"Ahem."

The couple started, and turned. Bobby was standing a few feet away. Remy quickly moved to disentangle himself from Rogue, but the younger man held up a hand to stop him.

"It's okay, Remy. I know about you two."

The Cajun quirked an eyebrow at that statement.

"Long story," said Bobby, as he came closer. "Frank's gonna drive Sam and Paige back to the house. The pair of them look terrible, but it doesn't look like they'll leave unless we force them to go." He gestured back to the door with his shoulder. "One of the nurses said Dr. Reynolds would be back soon for an update on 'Ro's condition. Thought you might want to be there for that."

Rogue smiled weakly. "Thanks, Bobby." She turned to Remy. "You'll talk ta Logan fo' me, right?" She waited for him to nod before turning to leave. "Y'all comin'?"

"Right behind you," Bobby answered, lingering until he saw her disappear back into the hospital. He stopped Remy before he could follow. "I don't know what's she's told you, Remy, but Rogue can't do what she says she can."

"What're you talkin' 'bout, _homme?"_

"Logan was telling the truth: it was just an idea she got in her head when we were younger."

Remy frowned. "She jus' told me dat she could."

"She tried it once... before." Bobby looked away. "Their parents were in a boating accident while vacationing up north, an explosion of some kind. There wasn't anything the doctors could do; it was just a matter of time. I was in the waiting room when Rogue screamed. I think she must have grabbed Logan's hand suddenly, trying to move his power into her mother, because when I got to the room Logan was unconscious on the floor and Rogue was slumped over her mom.

"She was barely breathing, and her heart stopped on seven different occasions, but the doctors couldn't find out what was wrong with her. Medically, she was fine. She just wouldn't come to."

"How long was she like dat?"

Bobby sighed. "Almost a month. She didn't get the chance to go to her parents' funeral because she was confined to the hospital." He shook his head sadly. "'Ro's like a second mom to Rogue."

Remy ran a hand through his hair, and exhaled harshly. "Dat explains why she's so hell-bent on doin' dis again. She doesn't want t' lose 'Ro like she lost her parents."

"Exactly," the younger man agreed. "We all know how she can get when she sets her sights on something. She's as stubborn as Logan -- maybe even more so."

A distant look crept into Remy's eyes. "But what if we're all wrong, _mon ami?_ What if Rogue _can_ transfer powers, an' we let 'Ro die 'cause we were too damn scared t' let her try?"

---

Ahh, aren't you all lucky? No signature cliffhanger in sight! ;)


	11. Flowers and Fools

**Disclaimer: **The disclaimer is torturing my muse again. It's making him watch _Barney_ over and over again, with no end in sight. I _really_ don't want to get involved...

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone that reviewed, especially to the anonymous reviewers that I couldn't review-reply to! ;)

**CHAPTER 11  
Flowers and Fools **

The rays of sunlight pouring into the garden were almost blinding. They showered the area with so much love and warmth that Ororo couldn't prevent the contented sigh that escaped her lips. The soft, silky grass beneath her feet perfumed the air with its freshly cut fragrance, making her nostalgic and giddy. She leaned down to breathe in the sweet scent of a nearby rose, rich in its red hue and perfect bloom.

She raised her eyes to survey the garden in its full glory: bright and shining, and bursting with every flower and color imaginable. There were beds of roses, carnations, lilies, dandelions, orchids and forget-me-knots. Patch upon patch of blue, orange, red, yellow and purple -- as far as her eyes could see.

A gentle wind picked up and fluttered through the cream-colored folds of her skirt. She watched as a rose petal broke free from its perch and caught onto the swaying breeze. It danced up and down, turning, coiling in the teasing wind, running further and further from where she stood. It finally drifted slowly to the ground, as the carrying wind began to die. It fell short of a wide stone entrance that opened out into the garden.

Her eyes focused onto the stones, knowing that she had entered the garden from that entrance -- how long ago, she was not sure. She knew only that beyond the opening was a gray tunnel that she had suddenly woken up in. The tunnel had neither been cold nor dark. It had simply been... there. Before she had time to contemplate the thought further, a light at the end of the tunnel had caught her attention. A feeling of contentment radiated from that light, and drew her closer. She moved toward it willingly, and when she stepped through the opening, the feeling of contentment intensified a hundredfold.

This was her paradise. This was her home.

As she stared at the gray stones that had led her there, she felt a small tug at the back of her heart. It was infinitesimal and minute, but it was there. Her brow furrowed slightly as she tried to identify the odd sensation. It felt as if... she was missing something?

Another breeze struck up from behind her, and she turned. She was surprised to see a tall golden gate shining in the sunlight.

All thoughts of the old stone entrance left her mind as she strode purposely over to the gate. It had never been there before. Where had it come from? She pushed curiously at the metal, and it easily opened for her.

Tentatively, she peeked through, and slowly took a step inside.

- oOo -

"She's gettin' worse, ain't she?" Rogue asked, as her best friend claimed the seat across from her. She had been 'hiding out' in the cafeteria for the better part of the afternoon, fearing that the next person that would find her would be the bearer of bad news.

"'Bout the same." Bobby nodded to the cup in front of her. "How long have you been nursing that coffee?"

For the first time in hours, Rogue looked up at the large wall clock that was hanging at the far end of the room. Her vision blurred slightly and she had to blink a few times to clear it. "Six hours, Ah guess."

"You want me to get you a fresh one?"

"Ah want you ta get Logan ta listen ta me."

Bobby sighed. "You and me both know he's about as likely to do that as you are to drop the idea altogether."

"Ah can help, Bobby."

"I know you think you can, hon, but you just might be making things worse." He caught her gaze when she looked up at him. He could see the fire burning clear in her eyes. More than that, he could see the stubborn set of her jaw that marked the un-relinquishing stand she was making. "Try and look at it from Logan's point of view: 'Ro's hurt bad and he's feeling pretty crappy right now because there's nothing he can do to stop her from hurting. And here you are, his little sister, claiming that you can cure her; but he was there when you tried it before and almost died. He knows that if he lets you have your way, he'll be trading one person he loves for another. He's not willing to do that."

"Then he's a fool," she said, bitterly. "He's gonna let 'Ro die because he thinks Ah don' know what Ah'm doin'."

"Do you? I mean, do you _really?_ We were just kids when you tried to save your parents. What makes you so sure you can do it now? It's not like you could practice on anyone since the last time you tried."

She turned to him, focusing her green eyes onto his blue. "Ah jus' _know,_ Bobby. Ah wish ev'ryone would have a bit more faith in me." Her hands fiddled with her long-forgotten coffee cup.

"I do," he insisted, reaching over and resting his hand on top of hers. "I really do, honest. It's just that... I remember how scary it was when we didn't know what was happening to you." He squeezed her hand supportively. He knew she was just trying to help. Everyone was dealing with their feelings of helplessness, and this was simply Rogue's way of dealing with her own. "Okay, let's say we get Logan to agree -- hypothetically speaking -- what are you going to do when he finds out the secret you've been hiding?"

"An' jus' what secret would dat be?"

Both Rogue and Bobby looked up as Remy spoke. His eyebrow was cocked sharply as he waited for the answer to his question.

"Ahh damn, here we go..." Rogue cursed under her breath.

- oOo -

If there was one sound in the entire room that Logan was focused on, it was the steady beeping of the heart monitor attached to Ororo's body. His ultra sensitive hearing allowed him to distinguish and pick-up every minute sound around him, but at that moment he was only interested in one. As long as one beep came after another, in that comforting and stable succession, he could ignore everything else.

He had been cradling her hand for nearly nineteen hours, his own fatigue having been chased away long ago. Crazy as it may have sounded, he was afraid that if he let go of her hand, even for a second, that she would slip quietly away from him. And so he sat, holding her hand in his, willing whatever meager strength he had to give into her body, trying to connect his thoughts to hers.

"Yer doin' good, 'Ro," he whispered encouragingly, caressing the back of her hand. "Slow an' steady, that's all we need ta do ta get you better."

He focused his attention back to the rhythmic beating of her heart. As long as it was solid and strong, there was hope. She had made it through the night without complications. Dr. Reynolds didn't want to get their hopes up, but at least things weren't turning for the worse.

Rise... and fall. Rise... and fall. He watched as she took each breath, filling her lungs with the oxygen she couldn't quite get on her own. That was all he needed to concentrate on: the rise and fall of her chest, her breathing, and the continual beating of her heart.

So intent and focused was he on those two singular sounds, that he was stunned into inaction when the flat-line screech of the heart monitor reached his ears.

- oOo -

"Still keepin' secrets from me, _chère?"_

Rogue glared at her best friend. "Nice goin', ice-boy," she hissed.

Bobby shrugged his shoulders. "He was going to find out one way or the other."

Pulling out a chair, Remy turned it around and sat down, resting his forearms on the backrest. "One o' you better start spillin'."

Rogue leaned back and folded her arms across her chest, cocking an eyebrow and challenging Bobby into speech.

"Okay, okay. Quit with the death glare already. _I'll_ tell him," he began, running a hand over his tired eyes. "You know how Rogue can see into people's memories and lives when she touches them, right? How she gets a glimpse into their thoughts, along with whatever knowledge or mutant powers they might have?"

_"Oui._ An' whoever she gets dose mem'ries, t'oughts an' powers from get knocked out f'r a bit in de process."

"Yeah well, we sort of found out that when Rogue uses her powers on Logan, he kind of gets a glimpse into _her_ memories."

Remy looked slightly confused. _"Excusé moi?"_

"With Logan, it's a two-way street," Rogue jumped in. "Ah can see inta his head; he can see inta mine."

"That's how he found out about Rogue and me fooling around back in high school. He almost gave me _major_ organ transplants that I didn't know I wanted."

Locking gazes with Rogue, Remy asked, "So ya sayin' ya brother will know about...?"

"Us, yes," she confirmed. She turned back to Bobby. "But that shouldn't even be an issue here. We're talkin' 'bout gettin' 'Ro better -- period. Nothin' else matters. Ah can try an' stop Logan from gettin' any o' mah mem'ries."

"You can do that?" asked Bobby.

"Ah can try. Ah stopped him from seein' a couple o' things last time. It'll be like tryin' ta stop a river from flowin', but Ah can _try."_

"Stripes!" a loud voice called from the cafeteria entrance. The trio turned and was startled to see Frank rushing over to them in a panic. "Let's go! She's crashing!" He practically yanked her from her seat in his attempt to get her moving.

"What?!" She stumbled to her feet. "Ah thought you went home, Frankie. What th' hell happened?!"

"I just got back," he bit out, racing through the hospital corridors with Rogue right beside him. "I went straight to 'Ro's room and saw Patch outside. The doctors are with her now, trying to save her."

They rounded the corner and saw exactly the picture that Frank had described just a second before. Logan was standing outside the large glass window, watching stonily as the team of doctors and nurses worked frantically to stabilize Ororo's condition.

"Logan!" Rogue yelled. "What's happenin'?!"

Her brother stared blankly at the scene before him. All hope had drained from his eyes. "We're losin' her," he whispered.

"No, we're not! Stop talkin' like that!" she said angrily, pounding her fists at his chest. She wouldn't accept that -- she wouldn't! "She's a fighter! She's goin' ta pull through!"

"She's lettin' go..."

"No, she's not!" Turning, Rogue began to yell through the glass. "Fight, 'Ro! You ain't leavin' me here with this blockhead! Do you hear me?! _Fight!"_

She felt, more than saw, the hands that wrapped around her upper arms firmly. _"Chèrie,_ you can't be doin' dat..."

"No!" She turned angry eyes to Logan again. "This is yoah fault! Ah could save her! Ah could help!"

"Stripes..."

"No! Ah ain't a kid anymore! _When_ she pulls through this, we're goin' ta save her! Ah'm takin' away th' choice from you!"

- oOo -

The scene before her took Ororo's breath away. If she had thought the garden had been beautiful, then the landscape ahead was simply astounding: golden light, flora, fauna, and quietly flowing falls. It was calling to her like a siren's song. She took another tentative step forward...

---

C'mon, show the li'l blue button down there some affection! ;)


End file.
